The Beginnings of Magic
by livingforfomas
Summary: My first attempts at Drarry. Written four years ago. Three stories. One pairing.
1. How I Keep You

_Warning: Both present and past writing. _Present is in normal text. _Past is in italics._

_Rated M for safety, no explicit scenes. _

_**How I Keep You.**_

Harry stirred from his decently peaceful slumber to an odd scent that he could only describe as foreign to either him or the blonde, and as of now, completely unconscious Slytherin lying beside him.

The Boy-Who-Lived raised himself from his position to turn and run his eyes over the body to his right.

The smell was without doubt radiating from him now that time had allowed the aroma of sweat and sex to disappear. Harry leaned closer to make absolutely sure.

There was no mystery. He was correct the first time.

The Raven-haired boy huffed an angry breath of air and violently tore the blankets from his body while blindly searching for his discarded clothing.

He mumbled curses at himself as he quickly buttoned the muggle jeans that he'd decided he liked the best out of any of Draco's gifts to him, but now felt entirely unclean in the present and wished with all of his might that he hadn't done this to himself.

"You're awake already?" a husky voice muttered into a pillow, finishing the sentence with his head turned towards the slightly struggling Gryffindor. Harry didn't look back as he sat on the edge of the bed a felt a finger trail lightly up and down his bear back. "We have all day to lay around."

Still, he didn't answer and hardly breathed until _a hand rested lightly on his shoulder, almost begging him to turn, begging him to let himself fall into something good, something that could let him feel,if only for a brief second, something different than pain._

_The brunette turned finally to pleading grey eyes._

_"Did you hear me Harry? I said I want to help you. You don't have to hurt anymore. I promise."_

_It wasn't until the shock had settled in that the savior understood his face was dampened with tears._

_It was true that he didn't want to feel pain anymore. In absolute truth, he didn't want to feel anything._

But, this hurt.

What Draco did was physically hurting him.

"Is something wrong?" Draco purred, nuzzling the tender skin along Harry's neck. The Golden boy all but cringed at the touch and broke away, leaving the other with a hungry and predatory glint in his eye at the challenge.

The blonde followed and stood chest to chest with the slightly shorter and much less pale boy.

Like their personalities, their skins clashed in an onslaught of conflicting colors. Colors that when separated are brilliant, but when aligned spell out the promise of disaster.

Harry made silent pleas to Gods that he never believed in to help his ragged heart still while the blonde skimmed his nose across his jaw line.

The messy locks of the normally prim and proper young man tickled the delicate skin above Harry's lip that was begging for rougher contact but allowed itself none.

After receiving no positive reaction, Draco stilled his growing need and made himself eye level with the always stubborn Gryffindor.

Harry recognized the slight change in his opposites eyes, and after a tense silence of simply staring _he tentatively reached out for the Slytherin's face._

_By the looks of it, the blonde was surprised. He hadn't expected Harry to be confident enough to make the first move, but he was entirely glad that he had._

_Harry was different from other wizards. No, not because of his name or his scar or his destiny, but for what he was as Harry._

_The fact that he could command a room without the slightest effort or intimidation. People wanted to hear him, no matter what the idea. They knew that it was entirely good, just as Harry was._

_And the way that he always seemed to give his absolute all even when every ounce of him needed to stop._

_But, what seemed to attract Draco most to the heart guided Gryffindor was his understanding of the pain and mistake and burden that is love. Harry understood that that idea, the very concept of love only lead to and ended in pain. It only ever guaranteed suffering, and Draco Malfoy could understand that better than anyone could possibly know._

_Harry organized a few stray pieces of hair from the slightly taller boys face and cradled his chin with his free hand._

_He hadn't known Draco as anything but an enemy but realized after years of utter loss that they were quite similar in thought and sometimes even in manner._

_The Slytherin was uniquely gifted and witty and charming and devilishly seductive in just about every sense of the word. But, he brought those qualities out of Harry as well. He forced the man that hid behind the boy that lost the key to himself for so long out of his secret place._

_And as much as he'd begun to like the feeling, he was also terrified._

_But, sometimes that's all you need is that push, that fear._

_And after leaning in for what seemed like miles to Draco's expecting lips, Harry decided that maybe he would consider falling again._

"Harry," Draco paused, whispering mainly to know that he could still speak, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving," Harry muttered, closing his eyes while a hand that was not his own snaked around his waist and tickled the small of his back, a known weak spot.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not sure that I want to fall anymore,"he forced, finally opening his eyes, "Not if there isn't going to be someone there to catch me."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter!"

_"We've been over this, have we not? There's no falling, no nothing. It's feeling."_

"Well, that isn't enough anymore and would it be too much to ask of you to maybe get rid of any sign of whoever you were with last?"

Draco tore himself away and let the comment slide away from him as he climbed back into bed.

"You don't have to be here."

_"I know," Harry murmured into the blonde's soft hair while the two lay in the middle of the Quidditch field, "But, I want to."_

_Harry had known death more personally than anyone Draco had ever met, so no other name came to mind with who would comfort him when his parents passed._

_With this Gryffindor, he could feel safe with his vulnerability, something he'd never actually said aloud._

_And when he was trapped in this helpless moment and wrapped in a strong embrace that welcomed him home, he almost felt as if Harry meant more._

_Times like these made it easy to pretend._

"Why don't you leave then? I specifically remember us never being exclusive."

"We've never been anything!" Harry almost shouted.

"And it's what you wanted. It's what we both agreed to."

_"I can't give myself to someone that wants more than this," the Slytherin panted beneath his soon to be partner. "I can't lose someone again."_

_"You don't have to worry about me falling for you. I promise."_

_And for the first time in their history, the two that had vowed to never agree or make peace from the very beginning became one._

_Through the midst of the heated words and empty promises of never, it was hard for either boy to admit that what they had just made wasn't love. But, they succeeded anyway, promising to themselves that they were the other's outlet. They were only release, and for now, wrapped snugly about the other, resisting the urge to mutter little declarations of love and finally making a steady rhythm in their otherwise jagged breathing patterns, it was easy to forget that the agreement never existed._

_"Harry?" Draco mumbled into the hollow of Harry's throat, pulling himself closer to the heat of the body beside him._

_The raven-haired boy groaned in response, closer to sleep than the blonde._

_"Thank you for everything."_

_Draco had never been sure that Harry had consciously remembered that thought after the night ended, but when he had felt the smile curl on Harry's lips in his sweat dampened hair, he knew he understood, then at least._

"Yes, I suppose we had that agreement months ago. And just for measure, how many men have you been with since we've been-," he cut himself off, unsure of what to call the relationship.

Harry waited patiently as Draco took a mental count of the names since they'd begun this charade.

"I didn't know that we were keeping count, Potter."

"Well, if it's so hard for you to recall that slice of time, maybe we could go over my list," Harry hissed through clenched teeth, quickly losing whatever was keeping him from hexing the cold hearted bastard that is Draco Malfoy into the next dimension.

"Listen, I never said that you couldn't-."

"There's one name on the list Draco. It's yours."

The Slytherin breathed carefully as he pulled his knees and covers to his chest, a nervous habit he'd acquired.

"You could have had anyone Harry. I'm not forcing you to stay."

"I don't want anyone else! How much longer is it going to take for you to realize this?"

"Don't-," Draco nearly begged. "I don't want what you do."

"Then what do you want?"

_"I don't know sometimes," the Slytherin answered, taking Harry's extended hand and entwining their fingers. "It changes everyday."_

_"You can't think of anything?" they Gryffindor pressed again, stopping to take a look at the face he thought he would forget if he didn't constantly have it in sight._

_Draco always seemed to feel that way to him, something so dreamlike that if he were too hasty for even a moment he could let the boy slip right through._

_"I want to be happy," Draco shrugged, "What do you want?"_

_Harry leaned forward to touch his lips to his other's pale cheek and leaned in farther to his ear, tickling it with his nose._

_"Does this make you happy?" the brunette whispered._

_"Y-y-yes" the blonde stammered._

_"Good, because that's what I want."_

"This means nothing to you," Harry realized, gesturing with his hand in the air between them, "Nothing at all."

"I won't apologize for something I shouldn't be sorry for."

"You're right," Harry agreed, "You are."

The Gryffindor picked up his wrinkled shirt from the corner of the bed and draped it over his left shoulder.

"You're not the one who found feeling. I was the one dumb enough to try again."

"We all make mistakes."

_"Yeah, but I would never make the same one again. You know as well as I do what happens to people I love."_

_Draco cringed inwardly at the idea. It was true. Normally people who loved Harry, or people Harry returned the favor to ended in death. No one, not even Harry could survive his curse._

_"You don't need to worry, Potter. I'm not capable of loving anything."_

Harry nodded and took hold of the brass doorknob of Draco's Prefect's bedroom.

"You're leaving then?" Draco asked almost emotionless. If Harry had found the courage to look at him, he would have easily discovered the hurt and sadness that passed through his grey eyes.

"There really isn't a reason for me to stay," he decided before opening the door and closing it quietly behind him, leaving Draco alone in the over sized room.

"But, you will."

And as much as it destroyed Draco to watch him leave, that was the only way that he could keep Harry.

Without Harry, before Harry, he felt nothing, believed nothing.

But the Golden Boy let him live. Harry had given him back his life.

And as long as he fought away all that he'd wanted, they could remain together.

And Draco, well, Draco could pretend, and that was enough.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: A different ending (No need to read- this is a separate ending written well after the angsty ending above) <strong>

And, as it always seemed to be, Draco was wrong.

Harry hadn't returned.

True to his word, that was the last time that he would ever enter or exit the privacy of the Slytherin's room.

The room that each wizard had hid from the rest of the world in. The room that existed to be a haven in the otherwise mess of a world that each boy lived in only now served as a reminder of what never was, what never could be.

And as time passed, Draco understood that fact more than ever.

Some people are just meant to be unhappy, Draco thought, marking his mental calendar of the four hundred and fifty first day that he'd been close enough to Harry, or heard Harry. He couldn't lie and say that the morning over a year ago had been the last time he'd seen the raven haired boy. His dreams seemed to have other ideas with the face he so longed to forget.

The piercing green eyes that glowed brighter than any sunrise Draco had known. That had seen more than he'd cared to ask about. The slight smirk that always seemed to settle on his thin lips whenever Draco had found him. Even if the gesture was an act, the blond appreciated the effort to make him smile in return.

And for reasons Draco couldn't understand, he was forced to smile back. Not in an obligated fashion, but something almost as natural as breathing, as natural as a heart beat, something he couldn't stop on his own.

But, that didn't matter now.

For about a year, Harry served his time in the muggle world. He truly was convinced that there was no reason to stay. And, he was right.

The war had begun shortly after their last morning, and Draco, no matter what his feelings were for Harry, he didn't stand behind him.

He couldn't. Even in death, his father owned him.

You can't help what you are, Harry once told him. The Gryffindor was rarely wrong.

But, that didn't mean that Draco had to hurt this man. It was during the war that he had begun to see the Boy-Who-Lived as the Man-Who-Lived. He'd grown up, and began to re-enter the world with hopes of something, anything better than what he had.

And he deserved it, which made the blond entirely jealous, bringing him, at a point in time, to hate the savior.

Draco had watched Harry pull himself from the ground at the very end of the disaster that is always war. His face was ash covered, his skin full of unseen scratches and soon to be scars, his clothing torn and drenched in strange blood that was not his own.

He was beautiful.

But, he hadn't expected what occurred next. Harry had left.

He simply walked away. The glory, the fame, the obvious worship that would ensue. He walked away from it.

And worst of all, he walked away from Draco.

Out of everything that happened to him throughout the course of the war, or even the course of his life, this had hurt the worst. This was what finally broke the otherwise frozen heart of this ice-prince.

For months, Draco had waited. And when he grew tired of waiting, he slipped into an angry depression that left him violent towards no one but himself and the inanimate objects closest to him.

During that period, well, Draco found himself more alone than ever.

He knew of no one that could help him, no one that would care to listen to even one of his problems.

And the only person that could possibly see him through his fit was a world away, forgetting him, or had already forgotten him. Like he said, he really didn't have a reason to stay.

But, what Draco couldn't fully understand was that he was the reason that Harry should want to stay. Draco could change, couldn't he? He could be everything that Harry needed, everything he wanted. But, what did Harry want?

Love?

That was difficult, but possible.

A guaranteed future?

Well, no one could promise that, but he could try.

And would Harry want that with Draco? With someone he thought could never change. That's why he left wasn't it? For change?

How can a person know if they can change until they try in the first place?

Harry had no right to assume Draco as an unchangeable force. That was simply unfair.

Unfair...

What he'd done to the raven-haired man… that was unfair.

And Draco could abide by what Harry needed, and what he needed was to forget this place, forget what happened to him, forget himself, and without doubt, forget Draco.

Harry wanted to be a man. He wanted to start over. He wanted to live for himself now that the weight on his shoulders had been lifted.

"And I can give him that," Draco whispered to himself. "I can let him live."

* * *

><p>Harry sat towards the middle of his bed in the home that he shared with Ron and Hermione. They'd all wanted to start anew, and what better a place than to live than a place where no one knew their names.<p>

Of course Harry hadn't told them a word about his time spent with Draco. They didn't need to know. And like Draco had said, nothing was between them, and nothing needed to be shared with no one.

And there was no reason to bring a reminder. The less he thought about the blond, and the less he spoke of him, it was easier to forget.

Of course it had been hard for him to finally finish everything he'd worked for and not be able to go back to someone he loved...

But, he couldn't really love Draco?

And even if he had, he never could be truly happy with someone who didn't feel anything back. There's really only so much one heart can take.

Then again, he didn't seem to be happy with two people who loved him almost as much as they loved each other. And he more than likely wouldn't find someone he was willing to fall for again. But, he'd lived this long without it, what's the rest of a lifetime?

"Harry!" Hermione called from behind his bedroom door, interupting his life theory, "Harry, can I come in?"

"Sure Mione. I'm decent."

She opened the door carefully, minding Harry's reactions to sudden sounds and smiled slightly at the friend in front of her. She could hardly understand how much was grief dwelled behind his eyes, but pretended to sympathize. No one really could relate.

"Harry, they sent another one. Please, let them have their party. You deserve so much more and they are only trying to thank you the best they can."

For months now, Harry had been receiving letters from the ministry, hoping that they could celebrate in his honor. He'd given them so much more than a simple pat on the back could ever suffice, and Harry wanted no part of it.

"Thanking me for what? Killing wizards they used to know? Breaking families apart? Destroying lives? You're right. I deserve all of their thanks."

"This is what kills _me_ Harry! You- you- you go around moping all of the time while Ron and I get to watch you! And what does that do? Nothing! And why? Because you won't let anyone help you! If you won't do this for yourself, do it for them! It will make them feel better. Damn it Harry! You saved us all and the least you can do is care a little for yourself!"

The raven-haired boy watched while his best friend's wife collected herself, her breathing ragged in her sudden rage that took him a step back from where he'd been only moments ago.

"Would that help at all?" Harry whispered weakly, not meeting the witch's eyes.

"Yes, Harry. It would help very much."

It was a few minutes before either spoke. But, Harry would be the one to break the silence.

"Then I'll do it Hermione. For them. Not for me."

And for the first time in a long time, Hermione smiled a genuine smile, something so common in others, but at that moment, felt like the most beautiful thing that Harry had ever witnessed. Actual happiness.

Without warning, the witch ran towards the unsuspecting wizarding hero, and tackled him to the bed, completely ignoring his space while surrendering to a fit of actual laughter.

"Oh calm down Weasley, this is just an excuse to dress up Ron."

"And you! God knows that nothing over the years has changed anything about either one of your tastes in anything."

I wouldn't say that, Harry thought to himself, smiling inwardly.

* * *

><p>"Oh for heaven's sake Harry! Could you please stop fidgeting?"<p>

"She has a point Har, you shouldn't be this nervous. Be happy or something. It wouldn't kill you for a change."

Harry followed the advice of his roommates and ceased his mindless nail biting long enough to plaster a false smile on his lips and shake a few hands with strangers that had 'owed him their lives.'

And he may have almost enjoyed himself if it weren't for the sight that would forever plague him… Draco Malfoy.

As if one could remain standing while dead, Harry went entirely still at the vision.

Of course he hadn't believed the man would change physically in a year, but he had. He seemed almost genuine in his grace as he remade acquaintances and renewed old bonds. He didn't seem cold in his actions. There was something-

"Harry!" Hermione nearly hissed, trying to sound remotely pleasant while keeping an eye on the ever stubborn hero. "You should think about moving. Or blinking. Or speaking. Or anything that would give someone a clue to the fact that you still have a pulse."

He nodded in a nearly forced agreement and continued on with his line of fans.

"Thank you, Harry."

"You've really outdone yourself."

"Please, if there is ever anything that you need."

"Sir, just one more photo, one more autograph."

After hours of introductions and meaningless thank-yous, Harry politely excused himself to the outskirts of the castle, taking a break from what he'd been putting off since the war.

He hadn't needed the fame, no, adolescence filled with that was entirely enough. He didn't need the praise. What he'd done wasn't right, and well, he couldn't accept thanks for it. And he most definitely would never find glory in what he'd done. Not now, not ever.

Lost in his own mind, a place he'd begun to grow tired of, he hardly noticed, or just didn't care about who had taken to following him.

"Please," Harry called behind him, "I only need a minute. I'll return, I swear."

"I didn't plan on making you make an appearance Harry," an all too familiar voice answered, seeming to stumble over his name.

Harry turned and nodded once at the blonde in front of him. "Good."

"H-how are you?" Draco asked, immediately slapping himself mentally for not only faltering in phrase but asking such a remedial question.

Of course he wasn't okay.

"Fine. You?"

And of course he would lie in attempts to avoid the guilt of another's eyes.

"I've seen better days, to be honest. But, I'm glad to hear that you're well."

Harry laughed humorlessly and moved around the bench he'd forgotten he'd been using to support himself and sat, relishing the feel of not having to hold himself up anymore.

"I'm tired, Draco," Harry tried to confess a little at a time, testing the sound of the former Slytherin's name in his voice. It hadn't sounded much different.

"Well, that makes sense," he agreed, coming to sit beside the nearly breaking man. "What made you accept all of this?"

"Hermione guilt-tripped me into it." He chuckled again, hearing how ridiculous that sounded. "I put it off long enough I suppose. Gave it a good run. And after tonight, I won't have to deal with any of this anymore. I can start over. Get away from any of this."

"So, no desires of returning then, eh, Potter?" Draco teased half-heartedly. "I assumed you detested the muggle world so strongly, and here I am. Wrong again."

"It isn't like I love it there," Harry murmured, not accepting Draco's pitiful attempts at light conversation.

"Then why stay?"

"Because it isn't here."

Draco had wanted now more than ever to read Harry, to turn to blazing green eyes and have that man crumble to nothing beneath him. But, he restrained himself, thinking that if he let himself look through Harry, it would be too much. He wouldn't be able to hold his promise to himself.

"Well, Harry, some of us don't have the excuse of exhaustion like yourself. I think I'll return to this little gathering in your honor."

Feeling the weight shift in the bench, Harry forgot for a moment where he was and his arm shot from his side to allow his hand to take hold of the blonde's arm.

"Wait," he spoke softly, trying to control the tremor in his voice, "Could you stay with me? Only for a while. We don't have to talk; I just don't want to be alone, or with them."

"Sure."

And they didn't talk. Not for an hour, not for two hours.

It was a comfortable silence. One that was understood by both wizards. What could they say? What should they say?

Sorry?

For what, Draco thought, absently playing with the buttons of his robes.

He wasn't the one who'd left. And that probably wasn't what Harry didn't want to talk about anyway. Draco may have only had Harry's absence to deal with, but Harry had the world. Seems right that their past wouldn't really be the first worry on his list.

And Draco could respect that.

The blonde was startled from his thoughts by something warm pressing into his hand, and looked down to find that it was another hand, Harry's.

Draco squeezed the almost trembling fingers lightly, to assure the raven-haired man that he was still there.

"I've missed you," Harry finally uttered, not looking to Draco for his reaction, but understanding the shock when the man to his left caught his breath. "During the war, after the war, now. I've missed you."

Draco couldn't speak if he'd wanted to. Anything he would say would sound rehearsed and cheesy and inexplicably terrifying in its intensity. He hadn't wanted to scare the hero away.

"Sounds funny right? That I'd still feel anything after everything that's happened. That our little charade had changed me in some way… You can call me foolish, or whatever you'd like now. There really isn't anything you could do that could hurt me now. I'm nearly impervious to pain."

The blonde man stifled a small snicker at Harry's sarcasm and rubbed his thumb in gentle circles around The-Man-Who-Lived's hand before covering both with his free hand.

"I don't think you're foolish. I don't think you're impervious to pain. I don't think you understand what your absence did to me. What I do know, and am absolutely sure of is that I missed you as well. I do know that I regret a lot of things that I've done, and said, and felt, but I never counted you in that pile." He paused, collecting his breath before continuing. "I didn't like when you were away, it felt wrong. And I hated siding against you, even if I did nothing to your side. I only coward in the shadows and hoped you wouldn't lose. And if anything at all, I hated seeing you tonight and feeling everything I'd tried to pretend wasn't there, rise up and cut through me harder than any known feeling I'd ever had. I hate myself for holding on to something that let go of me. And worst of all," Draco breathed, finally letting his walls break down, "it was my fault. I had everything and I let it go."

Too many moments of silence passed between the wizards for comfort and Draco released his hold of Harry's hand.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he said quietly as he prepared himself to leave, not adhering to his own needs to look back, and sped up pace to the party.

At least here he could drown himself in alcohol and hope to whatever God was out there that he wouldn't have and hadn't made an entirely large fool of himself.

After about three or four shots of a drink he could no longer pronounce without slurring, he turned to find a rather angry looking Hero stampeding towards him in an anything but graceful manner.

Contrary to popular belief, Draco could be scared, especially when liquor was involved, and especially when a charging vision of fury was only a few yards away from him, clearing an uncomfortable space for whatever he had planned.

"Draco Malfoy! You mindless, worthless excuse for a wizard, pompous, arrogant git!"

The blonde stumbled only enough to trip over his own feet and fall onto his backside, giving the torrent of rage easy access to his defenseless form.

Taking advantage of his newly found courage, Harry climbed over his target and placed his hands roughly over his hurriedly rising and falling chest, not giving him an inch as he became nose to nose with one of his oldest enemies.

"Just get on with it, Potter," Draco winced in the oncoming pain.

And without warning, he crushed his lips to the nearly brain-dead blonde and wrapped his hands around his frozen face for dear life while he let every memory of hate and lust and passion and thrill pour out into what he could only feel was the most life shattering kiss of his life.

Before long, the man beneath him responded slightly and Harry opened his eyes to find the startling look of terror in the grey orbs that stared relentlessly back at him.

But, he ignored the fear that was so blatant, and hoped for dear life that the fear filled shivers that he was producing would be unnoticed.

Finally, he broke the kiss and leaned forward to rest his head against the floor beneath Draco and pant into his hair.

"How- Dare- You- Just- Run- Away," he breathed, pulling himself, along with the other boy into some kind of sitting position.

"Harry," he heard someone say behind him, but threw his hand back to silence them. He needed to do this, and do it right.

He ran a hand absent-mindedly through blonde locks and rested his other hand over a flushed and normally pale cheek.

"What in Merlin's name were you thinking? Honestly, do you know me? Have you ever? Why would you say anything like you just did and then leave? What are you running from?"

Draco sighed and closed his eyes tightly, letting the feeling of Harry's warm hands sink deeper.

"Because I'm afraid."

"Of me?" Harry asked, stiffening and stilling all motions.

"Of course of you!" Draco nearly screamed, finding the energy to push the distracted hero off of him. "How am I supposed to not be afraid of you? Good lord Harry! Are you blind?

"Do you think that I want to hurt you? Do you think that I purposely set you up to get hurt? I can't love you without destroying you and that terrifies me! If I stay with you, only you, I'll never be able to stop how I feel, and I can't let that happen to you. Even I can't do anything so terrible!"

"That's what you're afraid of? You're afraid of loving me?" Harry asked weakly.

Draco could only gulp in response, not finding even the slightest courage to nod or the least amount of trust in his voice.

And that's all the answer Harry needed to pull the struggling ice prince into his arms and tighten when he resisted.

"I never want you to say that again. I know your strength and I know that you can survive me. If anyone can break whatever obscene curse that's held over me, it's you. And I truly believe that."

"How do you know?" Draco spoke a little shakily.

"Because I'm afraid to love you too."

Draco knew what Harry was really saying and immediately thanked Harry's strong arms for holding him steady while broken sobs wrenched through him.

No one had ever truly loved him, or liked him or any beautiful emotion such as that. Sure, he'd been lust after or wanted or needed in a physical sense, but love required patience and time and an actual soul, something that Draco hadn't thought he could have until this moment now where all that existed was the ragged breathing of the always stubborn Gryffindor…

"Harry, I-."

"No," the raven haired man stopped him, "Don't say anything back if you don't know what it means. I can wait for you to learn just exactly you feel. I can."

"Maybe you are a fool," Draco said innocently, smiling at a now confused Harry. "It isn't as though I've come to this conclusion all of a sudden. You've always been the only one. But, fear of losing you kept me from ever letting myself keep you. I shouldn't be allowed to have you. So, I did the only thing I could to make you at least partly mine. I hurt you in hopes of you needing me to fix you, and you didn't come back. You didn't need me."

Harry swallowed hard, not knowing exactly how to proceed with the conversation. He could understand Draco's uneasiness with even the word love, but to know that he could feel it too was almost too much to handle at one time.

"And that hurt more than I ever thought it would. Believe me, I tried. I tried harder than I ever had to forget even a second of what we were and I couldn't do it. Even the bad times left me breathless. And I think I had realized that I couldn't forget because I hadn't wanted to. I still don't want to forget you. If anything, I want to remember more."

Even under the stupor, Draco could finally feel the eyes boring into his back.

"We have an audience," he mumbled into Harry's neck.

"Is that supposed to be new to me?" Harry chuckled, smiling into another kiss that was shorter than his previous one, but still enough to make Draco's knees weak.

"Well, it is to me," the blonde breathed, resting his forehead against Harry's.

"And I won't let you go through it alone," Harry promised.

And I won't let you go… Draco thought, letting himself finally fall. And he knew then that he didn't have to worry about the unknown when there would be someone to catch him.

He didn't have to hurt Harry to keep him.

No, it was much simpler than that.

All he had to do was fall…


	2. Where Have You Been?

_Where Have You Been?_

_Draco Malfoy:_

I remember the exact millisecond that I'd fallen in hate with Harry Potter.

Yes, fallen in hate. If you can fall in love, you can fall in hate. That's my philosophy anyway.

But, it wasn't a conscious decision. The whole idea sort-of fell on me and well that was that.

Of course I knew that I'd always loathed the boy. Of course I had sworn to be his enemy until death do us part, but it never actually clicked until that deciding moment. That brief and fleeting second where every puzzle piece snapped in place and the picture became very clear.

I hated Harry James Potter.

He hadn't been himself when the story had taken place. He hadn't been anything really. He'd been lethargic, numb, dead. He wasn't at all the pin prick little wanker that I'd grown to despise so greatly.

But, I'd grown accustomed to that Harry. He was my polar opposite, my driving force. I'd always wanted to do better than him, so I pushed myself to my breaking to beat him.

Well, until he quit trying at least.

That was the day that I'd fallen into hate with Harry Potter. Harry bloody Potter, the savior of the wizarding world, the Wonder Boy, the Boy Who Lived One Too Many Times.

Snatching him from his private studies, I'd lured him willingly to a more secluded area where I would proceed to torment him in the like, the usual of course.

He hadn't made a sound as I placed my insults in quite the poetic fashion. His face never changed from its golden tan to the bright scarlet that I had always found to suit him well. His breath never hitched in its anger and turned to a hiss. In fact, his breath did nothing at all but stay level and steady in his chest.

Even when my wand was placed securely at the hollow of his throat, practically begging him to challenge me, he simply placed his hand over mine and pushed my wand to the skin.

I took a few cautious steps away from him then, carefully examining the boy in front of me. _The thing in front of me_. It certainly couldn't have been Harry. Harry would never have dealt with me for this long. No matter how pure and good the little prick was; he was still a boy. I think that people tend to forget that.

"What is wrong with you, Potter?" I asked honestly. He must have been ill or hexed or cursed.

He said nothing.

"Can't you hear me?"

Again, he said nothing.

"Look, Potter, quit ignoring me! You bloody well better answer me damn it!"

I violently shook him and he took the abuse without so much as a sigh.

"If that's how you want to play it, Scarface, we'll play by your rules!" I finally conceded, leaving in a flush of anger that I'm sure could be felt throughout the entire school.

The day Potter started to ignore me was the day that I'd fallen head over heals in hate with him. No one, and I repeat; no one does _that_ to me. Who in the hell did he think he was?

But, it was soon after that I had discovered he was in fact ignoring everyone.

The boy had gone mute!

Surely that couldn't be true. He couldn't have actually stopped talking? The Boy Who Lived _to moan and groan about his pathetic life_ had actually discontinued speech.

I should have been ecstatic, right?

Wrong.

I was bored!

Besides little Weasel and Granger, Harry was my only competition. Well, okay, the less privileged youth was at no means a challenge for me without Harry, and the mudblood could only whoop me in an intelligence battle, but neither of them bothered without him anyway!

No one seemed to bother standing up to me but him. And please let me explain. If you can't get a rise out of someone, what's the point?

I soon began to end my constant bickering, finding no use in the matter. There was no point anymore.

Damn savior! He'd destroyed my routine.

That dirty little prat had not only ruined my fun but also completely changed my lifestyle! Again, what was he thinking?

He wouldn't even go after me in Quidditch. Even when I had become fed up enough with the tension to knock him off of his broom purposely at least twenty feet in the air, he did nothing. He hardly winced, earning him cheers and praise from the crowd immediately, as if they knew this would happen.

That irked me enough to leave the game completely.

I didn't even wait for the announcer to call the game to a close due to lack of Seeker. I'd just left moments after Potter in a rage.

What was wrong with him?

After time though, I'd gotten used to the silence. I'd gotten used to the new Harry. And I'd felt a little less, well, abandoned after a while.

I ended the smart remarks that retained no more ire. I stopped the penetrating glares from across tables. I made an effort to cease my own rising blood pressure at his presence. And all was well for a while.

Until I'd found out more than I'd wanted to.

Clearing my head of the day's nonsense, I'd stumbled upon a couple of seventh years that seemed to be having a go at some defenseless younger wizard.

Normally I would have either joined in or left without a second thought. People should be able to defend themselves. That's what I think anyway.

But, I'd heard the insults and attempts at urging the boy to fight back.

"Come on!" _A sharp kick to his stomach_. "Get up and fight you little twat!"

A sick laugh rose from one of the other boys that was leaning against the wall while his friend continued to beat the tar out of this boy.

"He isn't going to do anything. Seriously, what's the point, you're tiring yourself out more than him, and he's already a bloody pulp anyway."

"No! This kid's going to scream. If this is how he handles you-know-who, how in the hell can't he pulverize me?"

_Harry?_

"Step away from Potter," I almost snarled at the larger boy whom I'd recognized to be a Slytherin. A no name that had no purpose in life.

"Well, if it isn't little Draco! Heard _you_ couldn't even break him. Losing your touch, eh?"

"I said back away." Whipping out my wand to his throat, I noticed his eyes widen slightly. "Do you honestly think a Malfoy doesn't know how to use this? Do you?" I whispered so only he could hear. "Would you-know-who have chosen my family if we weren't the best? What do you think?"

"I thought all of that was a rumor."

I laughed bitterly, feeling the sting in my throat from its dryness.

"Yeah, and I started it," I smirked; releasing the now trembling boy and letting him run off with his friend.

"Oh, and by the way, if I catch you messing with my Potter again, I'll finish what I started."

Turning to the now fetal position of Harry Potter, I winced at his wounds.

"Come on, Harry. I'll get you to the hospital wing. You'll be fine."

I extended my hand for him to take, and to my surprise, he took it without question.

Pulling him to his feet, I noticed the stumble.

Catching him quickly, I helped him limp to Madam Pomfrey. It was a quiet journey, other than the slight moans from Harry if we turned a corner too sharply.

"I know you won't answer me, Harry. But, I'm going to say something."

I paused, just in case he decided to respond. He didn't, so I continued.

"Whatever you're doing right now, your little vow of silence? Well, it sucks. And I sort-of miss torturing you."

He smiled then, rolling his eyes and I laughed a little at the ridiculousness of that statement.

"That's the first time I've seen you smile in a while," I pointed out, not realizing I'd even been watching him closely enough to notice.

He looked at me quizzically, analyzing my face while I his.

Potter wasn't a bad looking guy. His hair had always been a mess, but it was perfectly messy. His face had lost some of its healthy glow, but it was still worn and experienced. His eyes were still green. They didn't blaze the fire that they used to. They weren't captivating and terrifying to meet anymore. They were dull now. Tired.

"Potter?" I asked, interrupting the silence. His head jerked back to reality for a moment to focus in. "If I asked you a yes or no question, could you nod your head or something?"

God, anything damn it!

He thought it over and shrugged. I took that as a good sign.

"Okay, is there a reason that you aren't talking?"

One nod. Yes.

"Does anyone know why you aren't talking?"

He shook his head. No.

Curious, I figured he'd talk to the dream team about his little problems.

"Okay… Are you going to talk, ever again?"

He shrugged. Maybe.

Harry held out his hand and reached into his robes for something.

I gave him my hand tentatively and he revealed a pen.

Writing carefully, he spelled out the word, why?

"I already told you, I miss fighting with you."

He pointed towards the word on my hand again and I shrugged, not having an answer for him.

"No one else will bother arguing with me, Potter. You were the only one brave enough. Like it was that big of a challenge for you. But, I liked trying to beat you anyway."

He considered that while I came around him to stand against the wall.

"You gave up on me," I almost whispered. "You gave up on everything."

He turned his face slowly to mine, his eyes screaming for something that I couldn't understand.

But, his body remained composed. His breath never faltered.

Instead of continuing, I only held the word on my hand to him. But, nothing came of it. He just shook his head.

"God Potter! How can anything be that bad? Would you quit wallowing for three seconds to look at yourself! It's pathetic! You decide to shut down _now_? You've been through hell and back at least a thousand times and you decide that now you're going to throw in the towel?"

He nodded and made a feeble attempt to finish his trip to the hospital. But, not having enough of his own strength, I was forced to pull him the rest of the way in an awkward and tense silence.

After what seemed to be years, I'd gotten Harry to where he needed to be. I immediately regretted saying anything at all as I practically carried him inside the wing.

"Harry! Oh my stars! Mister Malfoy, did you do this?"

"No, ma'am. I didn't. I was just around at the right time."

She rushed out of the room while I helped Harry into his bed.

"I'm sorry I said anything, Potter. I shouldn't care about your business anyway."

With that, I turned to leave, literally and metaphorically scratching my head because of the situation.

"Thank you," I heard a familiar voice mumble almost incoherently.

I turned around, my ears obviously playing some strange and bizarre trick on me.

"You say something?" I asked, almost feeling stupid.

Nothing changed.

I shook my head and continued to leave.

"I said thank you," the voice said a little stronger than the first time.

Looking back, I was sure that Potter had said something.

"Now, I know you said something Harry," I decided. I wasn't going crazy.

He looked nervous, like I had just discovered some deep hidden secret. I hadn't found anything.

"Thank you, Draco," he whispered, pain seeping through his words. I could only stare, dumbfounded. I hadn't heard his voice in so long. I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed it until then.

"Say something else," I pleaded.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything Harry! Just keep talking, please."

"I'm sorry that I haven't been myself lately," he apologized.

Suddenly there was something tearing at my insides to know more. I had to hear everything.

"What is it?"

He laughed then, a shaky and shy laugh.

"I had this idea that if I didn't talk about what hurt me anymore, it would go away. If I stopped everything I did, eventually everything that was after me would stop as well. Sounds stupid, right?"

"No," I disagreed, "That sounds about right."

"Really? You don't think it sounds ridiculous?"

"No, I don't, but what are you trying to get away from?"

He gulped a little before looking away from me. I tried to get him to look back at me, but he was always so stubborn. At least _that_ part of him hadn't changed.

"I don't like what I am. The pressure, the disappointment. It's all more than I should have to handle. But, I do it. I do it everyday. God forbid I don't want what I was born for. If I was meant to be this hero that everyone thinks I am, how can I complain? No one wants to know that the person who is supposed to save them wants anything but that. No one wants to have to deal with the problem themselves. And, I've been the solution for so long now, no one even thinks about what I want."

Well, that was definitely unexpected.

"Well," I began, having Harry finally look at me. "What do you want?"

"What?" He asked, as if the question had never occurred to him.

"If you don't want any of this… what do you want?"

"I guess I just want something normal. I don't want to have to do something where I'm the only one. I don't want to be alone anymore."

I silently agreed, trying to find any kind of answer to the thousands of questions in my head.

"Why did you talk to me?"

He smiled and looked away again, something I didn't quite understand. It definitely didn't help that his awkwardness had caused me to blush in return.

"You wanted to listen," he answered simply. "You didn't give up on me like everyone else did. You didn't just sit back and accept what I became. I can actually count on you to be that pain I need to keep pushing myself. My driving force, I guess."

"You really mean that, Harry?"

He sat up to put a hand on mine and smiled genuinely.

"Thank you for listening to me, Draco. You were the last person I would have thought to help me through this, and you did. It was a nice surprise."

I looked at both of our hands and felt something strange stir inside my stomach and chest. My heart was beating at a frantic rate and my stomach was doing its own interpretive dance of the situation.

But, before I had time to react, before I could decipher what exactly he was doing, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead.

I shivered uncontrollably at the shocking touch.

Pulling himself back, he stared directly into me, and I was unable to speak.

His face looked calmer now. His eyes weren't the brilliancy that they had once been, but a spark did flare.

"Wha- well, I guess, that you are- umm… welcome, Har- Potter," I stuttered embarrassingly.

"Always so articulate, Malfoy?" he teased, laughing lightly. His smile looked so warm and innocent, happy.

"Hey, I don't want to hear it Pot-," I got out before I was interrupted by Harry's soft lips against mine.

Again, I was too surprised to actually react, but soon enough I was able to relax under the hold and just feel.

But, all too quickly, I realized exactly what I was doing and jerked away, face flushing at least four shades of red.

He wouldn't have that though.

"You asked me what I wanted…"

"Yeah, that wasn't an invitation to attack my face! It was a question for Christ's sake!"

"I didn't know that you were religious."

Something that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a hiccup escaped my mouth. "I wasn't until now, Potter."

We settled back into the quiet and I half wondered if Harry had gone mute again. But, too afraid to speak or look at him, I let the question slide.

"You could always leave," he said after a while.

"Excuse me?"

"Madame Pomfrey will be back soon and I doubt anyone else will try to hurt '_your_ Potter' if you wanted to leave."

Oh, I thought he'd missed that.

"Caught that, did you?"

He moved his eyes to his hands, forming his own kind of rouge on his cheek.

"Why did you protect me like that? I half expected you to join in."

"Hey, you listen here, Potter," I said, recalling quickly how angry I'd been watching the two boys get a laugh from my Boy Wonder. "If anyone, and I mean, anyone has a problem with that, well," I paused, unconsciously finding myself moving closer to him. "They'll have to go through me first."

Without thinking, only feeling, I claimed what was rightfully mine.

Pushing him back into the bed and ignoring his pained whimpers from his bruised chest and probably broken ribs, I crashed my lips into his with a force that I hadn't known myself capable of.

I even found myself smirking into him while my hands took a turn in his impossible hair. This was mine. Harry was mine.

No one was going to hurt him again because that would be something only I could do.

No one would ever touch him again because he was claimed territory of Draco Malfoy.

And he would never have to be alone again, because, well…

I guess I'd give him myself too. I could be his, if he wanted me, that is.

After realizing that I was probably crushing the boy beneath me, I separated us from the kiss somewhat shakily. The awkward taste of dried blood and cinnamon still present on my mouth.

"Guess I don't have to ask what you want," Harry laughed.

My eyes began to shut under the new yet old familiar sound of his voice. It was sweeter than I'd remembered.

"I missed your voice Harry," I said aloud, feeling utterly vulnerable now that the truth was out.

But, I had no need to be because he only looked back at me with the light that I'd always remembered seeing him in. He was finally glowing, and it was more than what I'd been used to during his quiet spell.

"Sorry I was gone so long."

"Welcome back, prat," I teased.

"Thanks a lot, ferret," he played along, entwining our fingers again before he sighed, completely content.

"Ehem?"

"Oh!" I almost jumped, realizing that we were no longer alone. Still holding onto Harry's hand, I caught my now ragged breath.

"Harry? Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit better. Did I miss something?"

"I'm feeling much better, now. Thank you," Harry smiled, looking up at me with an impish grin.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Are you holding Harry Potter's hand?" she asked, almost knocked off of her feet.

"I guess I'm afraid he might disappear again if I let go," I replied timidly.

Harry only held my hand tighter. He wasn't going anywhere.

-El Fin-


	3. Nothing Worth Having Comes Easy

**Nothing**** Worth Having Comes Easy**

_Rated_**  
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_Draco Malfoy:_

You know that sick feeling you get in the pit of your stomach? That feeling that never seems to go away, no matter how many times you think about rainbows and sunshine and all the pretty things that make the world almost pleasant to live in? That tingle that's almost a pain, but it doesn't quite hurt, because at least the hurt is a distraction. This reminds you because it isn't enough to destroy you. It's only enough to make you suffer. It's a terrible feeling. It's that omen. You know that something terrible is going to happen, and you do nothing because you can only do nothing. You know the feeling I'm speaking of? I'm talking about love.

It's disgusting to think for a moment, that I of all people would have this predictable feeling. This torturous and mind numbing feeling. And to have it for you? I thought that it was some kind of illness at first. I thought that maybe I had grown soft and fragile with the recent tragedies in my life. But I have always been a cold person; nothing could faze me. Especially you. You were never my salvation. You were always that pinprick in my side. But, I could tolerate it.

And you always tolerated me. Not that that was something I didn't expect. You're perfect, in someone's eyes. You're witty and charming. You're forgiving and kind. You're warm and loving… It makes me physically sick to think of you this way, because I shouldn't. But, how can I not? And the worst part of you is that you aren't even arrogant about everything you are. You act as though you are one of many instead of _the one_. You were always the only one.

Would you like to know something else? I actually think that you would listen to me if I would want to tell you this. Because, that's what you do. You feel for people. You understand the torment that can cling to one's soul over a period of time. You can honestly relate, unlike the people who pretend to know how it is around here when they honestly know nothing.

But, that can be a wonderful thing too. For everyone around me to be so blind. I wouldn't know how to proceed with my life if anyone would actually notice the way I look at you. Sometimes I think that you're seeing through me when you glance back. I think you can feel me watching you, which has most likely come from always watching your own back. I could do that for you, if you'd let me. I guess I would have to ask first. Which I most likely will never do.

I'm not brave as you are. I'm nowhere near as invulnerable as you are. As rough as I try to seem, I think that you could break me. With the slightest effort, I think you could destroy everything that I'm thought to be.

I guess you wouldn't want to look at it that way. You wouldn't want to hurt anyone, even your enemy as I'm often referred to as. That's partially my fault. I should have been kind, but it's almost pathetic that I do not know how.

Even if I could tell you this, love, I think that I would still be able to change nothing. If I were even close to being free from what I'll soon become, I still would not be able to love you the way that I wish to. I would want you to be mine and only mine, everyday, from now until we both die.

But, you would never have that of me. You loathe me. I understand that it's impolite to say aloud, but I can feel it in every word and every glare that makes its way to me. And you should despise me. I've done nothing but wrong you since the moment I met you. Please don't take it personally; I can't help it.

It's funny sometimes. I'll watch you, smiling with your friends, people who truly care if you live or die, and I actually wish that you would let me smile with you. You wouldn't think that I would want that, would you? You probably think that I would rather make my followers laugh at you over something sinister and brutal and cold. Something that you never deserved. You've always deserved the best by the way. I hope you know that.

I think that that's another reason I'll never tell you how I feel. I wouldn't want your love back. I'm not the best for you. I'm everything you aren't. You need an equal, someone who could guide you and live with you and for you. You would need someone as perfect as you are.

I guess that no one will ever seem right for you in my eyes. No one can actually compare. God, I sound like a schoolgirl.

There you are now. You're alone, facing the night sky and you've never been more beautiful than you are right now. You're thinking, I've gotten incredibly good at reading your facial expressions. I've always wondered what you were thinking of. No, I've never thought that you were daydreaming of me, but I cannot lie and say that I haven't hoped. It's a reflex feeling; I don't want to hope.

I guess I've always wondered what's inside your head because there is no one who could possibly match your thoughts. You've lived through so much, and as much as it pains me to say it, I actually wish that I could take it away from you. Every mundane thought that has passed through here has been just that, plain and boring. You could never be that. You were born great. You were born to simply be.

You tilted your head to the side and seemed to let out a sighing breath. You're content, and I won't ruin your moment. Whatever is making you happy; I want that to stay. As awful as I am to you, I've found myself living to see you smile.

You turn suddenly, and I can feel that feeling again when your emerald eyes find themselves fixed on mine. I would love to turn and run, but appearances keep me here. I can't simply let you be when I am who I am. We live to hate each other in the eyes of the people around us. If only they knew.

"Hello?" you ask. I'm relieved that it is too dark for you to see me clearly, but something tells me that you have a pretty good guess as to who I am. "Someone there?"

I'd like to ask you how you know that someone is there. Was it the fact that someone had been following you for so long? You know that people are still coming for you. Is that what makes you so afraid to let your guard down?

Against my best judgment, I step out of the shadows. I notice, with a closer look, that you look even more brilliant than I had imagined. Your dark hair is disheveled. And you look anxious. Your clothes are torn in the slightest. Perhaps you had gotten knocked off of your broom while practicing. You never seem to pay much mind to the world when you're flying without purpose. It's truly magic. I could never be as graceful. But that would make sense, considering how far I would fall if I allowed myself your freedom.

"Malfoy?" you ask. I nod; the surname has always cut deep. "What are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk," I answer truthfully. I hadn't meant to find you. Much like you, I'd only wanted to think.

You remove yourself from your seat at the window and lean against the wall, preparing yourself for what you expect to be a fight. I shrug; I don't feel like fighting tonight.

"You, Potter? What are you doing here?"

"Thinking. I wasn't ready to go back to the dorm yet. There isn't much room to think in there, alone at least."

"I agree completely." It's strange to think that we both can agree on something. Without realizing it, I smile at the thought.

"Something funny?" you ask, still tensed for the upcoming battle.

"No, only thinking." I pause, unsure if I should say anything after this. We aren't friends. How can I speak to you without being hostile? "Harry, you ever wonder why you and I hate each other so much?"

I notice your curiosity peak when I use your first name. Did you not know that I did in fact know your name? Of course I knew, who doesn't? You're who everyone wishes they could somehow be. Who wouldn't know that?

"Well _Malfoy_," you use my name like that on purpose. Sometimes I actually think that you want to argue. I don't mind sometimes. At least that gives me an excuse to acknowledge you. "It could be the fact that you're a spineless creature that for some reason finds pleasure in torturing and destroying anything different from you. Maybe that's why I can't seem to find you as anything but an enemy."

You're aggressive tonight. I'd like to ask you what's wrong, but I hold my tongue. You should finish your rant. You're always beautiful when you believe in every word that you say. There's such conviction and honesty. It's wonderful to watch you.

I smirk to cover my unobvious pain. "I suppose that could keep us apart."

Again I surprise you with my words. You don't expect me to agree with you, which I understand. You haven't a clue of how much I understand you.

"Why are you asking me this, Malfoy? Some kind of devious plan developing?"

I'm not shocked. You know me well. It's strange that two people who hate each other more than anything else in the world can know each other better than anyone. I guess that makes the saying, "keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"No, Harry, I was simply curious. I've wondered about that lately. I wasn't wondering so much as to why you hate me. That reason is obvious, but I have wondered about why I despise you."

I inch my way over to where you stand and lean against the wall with you. Our arms brush, and I know for a fact that you feel nothing but pure loathing from the simple touch.

You don't turn to me when you speak, and I realize that you probably want me to leave you as you were. Luckily for me, I've never been one to follow others and I don't plan on beginning now.

"Well, that's your problem, isn't it?" It's a faint whisper. I do love the sound of your voice. I remember when that note struck me. I found myself intently listening to every word that left your lips simply to hear the words said. I guess that had made me even more frustrated. I never comprehended; I only listened for your voice. Soon it became my own lullaby. It was a melody that seemed to stick out above all of the noise here. I could find it easily over the crowded halls and classrooms. You'd be surprised how much I've learned about you by simply listening.

"I suppose it is. It isn't as if you are ever unkind to me without cause. There isn't really anything wrong with you, Harry. But, maybe that could explain my hatred."

"You hate me, because there is no reason to hate me?" You smile unevenly, and I can feel my heart melt when I realize that the smile is for me. You have no idea how long I've waited for your genuine smile.

"That's a way to put it," I admit, still under the absurd power that you unconsciously hold over me. "Sometimes I wonder if I actually hate you."

"Excuse me?" Oh, I had meant to not speak that last thought. This is embarrassing. I can feel my face flush when I turn away from you. But, you're persistent and you ask me again.

"I meant, well, yes, that's what I meant. I'm not sure if I hate you. I can't seem to find a reason to."

"Of course you do! Your father works for the man who wants to destroy me. I represent everything good and pure and you represent everything that's evil and rotten in this world." My face sinks. The words hurt coming from you. You've never been so blunt about how you felt about me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But, we were born to hate each other. That's how it's supposed to be." You shrug as though you haven't just demolished my entire world.

"Is it?" I whisper, mostly to myself. I want to prove that I can still speak.

"Yes," you answer. You're certain as always. "That's exactly how it's supposed to be."

"Kind of sad, isn't it?" Again, I'm not sure if I am truly asking you or merely conferencing with myself.

"What is?"

"It's sad that two people are meant to hate each other. I would assume that you of all people would find sadness in knowing that you can never truly be close to everyone when some are just never going to come easy."

You take a moment to think that over, and you strike me hard with your next glance. You've been inspired somehow and I like to think that it had come from me.

"You know, being close to anyone is never easy. Love isn't easy. You can always lose that person, you can always worry that that person may betray you or hurt you, and you'll live your life regretting that. It is never easy to just trust someone. It isn't easy to become close to someone, no matter how easy it was to begin. Every relationship is hard. Nothing is ever really set in stone, and you learn to accept the things that you can't change. You accept that you aren't going to be loved by everyone. But, you welcome the effort and you continue to try, no matter how difficult. Nothing worth having ever comes easy."

Your eyes pierce through me throughout your speech and I'm captivated and mortified. I wonder if you can read my mind. I wonder if you can feel anything that I feel for you. I wonder if you know how much I would like to change our roles in life so that I can actually be close to you.

"Do you believe that Harry?"

It's a pointless question because I know the answer. But, I want to hear you say that you believe.

"I do. I mean, I don't want to seem like I know it all, because I don't. But, nothing is easy, Malfoy. Some things are just less difficult than others."

I like the way you phrase that. And you're absolutely correct.

"Well, do you believe that anything can happen then? With work and patience, do you think that the most bizarre things could actually happen?"

"Sure. Is there something that you're getting at Malfoy? It's late, and Ron probably won't sleep until I return."

I shake my head. There's no reason for me to keep you here. I'm being selfish.

"No, Harry. I'm sorry I've kept you. But, thanks for the word."

I remove myself from your side and make my way towards the corridor leading to the dungeons. I feel an arm take hold of my wrist and turn to face your weary eyes.

"Draco, is something wrong?" I'm surprised now. I don't expect us to be on a first name basis. I find it even more unnerving that you can read me well enough to know that I'm not being honest with you. "Really, you haven't been yourself."

"Oh, the spineless creature that gets off on seeing you suffer?"

You let go and nod, "Well, yes, I guess so."

"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you, _Potter_." I look at the place that you held me. It still tingles as though you've burned it when it was barely a brush of the fingertips. "You might want to get back to your dorm. They're probably worried." And I don't want to let myself cry in front of you. I know that you could say one thing that would crush me. You could break down every wall of my carefully made life and obliterate me.

"Okay, I wouldn't force you to let me help you. I'm sure that there are about a million people you would rather discuss your personal life with."

"You're wrong," I say louder than I should when you turn away from me, readying yourself to leave.

You look at me, baffled, and I hold my ground. I won't come to you. I can never allow myself that.

"There isn't a soul here that I would rather talk to than you. There isn't a soul here that can capture my attention as you can. Harry…" I trail off. I hope to whatever god is out there that you are incapable of reading between these lines.

"Why are you saying that?" you ask, and I find myself suddenly speechless. I can't tell you how I feel. That's out of the question. I can barely tell myself without wanting to commit suicide.

"Because Harry…" I close my eyes, hoping that I can focus better without your face fresh in my mind. "Because maybe there's more to you than I had thought. Maybe I don't want to hate you anymore. Maybe over the years, watching you grow up from that witty little know-nothing into the hero that you are, maybe I've…"

"Maybe you've what?"

I open my eyes to see you in the same place that you've began, sitting at the window, the stars playing behind your head. And without a doubt in my mind, I know my answer, and for once, I feel right in thinking it.

"Maybe I've fallen in love with you."

* * *

><p><em><span>Harry Potter:<span>_

I've been through more than you could imagine. Well, I guess it isn't too hard to imagine because my life is constantly plastered upon a billboard for the entire world to see. But, I've gotten used to having no secrets; it's part of the job description for being the Golden Boy. Not as grand a title as you would think.

But, this; right now, well, I guess it hit me strangely because I didn't expect it to come. I've gotten used to dealing with painful and difficult things. I meant what I said about things never coming easily. I've actually learned to live for the less difficult things in life, because when I don't have to struggle to my absolute breaking point, that is almost a lifesaver.

I understood everything in my life up until now. I could get through the utter agony of watching the love from my friends turn to love for each other. That was inevitable. I could get through the death of my Godfather. It would only make sense that his life would end the same way that my parents had. I'd expected him to only play a short roll in my life. Not that I won't miss him, I'll miss him everyday. But, it'll hurt less over time. That's something I'm sure of. I've expected to always look over my shoulder too. But, that's pretty predictable. We're all running from something. I just happen to be running from the dark lord. And that may seem like something that should frighten me, but I can't say that it does anymore. Again, it's something you get used to. But, you? You, I just didn't see coming.

"Maybe I've fallen in love with you," you said. And the first thought to come to my mind was, why me?

Funny isn't it? I wasn't disgusted with the fact, only confused. But, that really wouldn't explain my obvious rage. I think that that's my first reaction to love, confusion. I can never understand why someone could freely choose to love me with all of the baggage that I carry along. Maybe that makes loosing someone easier for me than for others. They shouldn't love me, so it would only make sense that they're hurt in the process of trying.

So, I'm sorry for hitting you and running away. That was pretty childish. You probably expected better of me if you'd decided to fall in love with me, which still seems fairly absurd, considering it's impossible. Hopefully I didn't break your nose.

Ron knows that something strange just happened to me. He's always been good at reading my emotions. I guess that that's what makes us such great friends. But, it can be a tinge bit annoying, thinking of the circumstances.

"Ay mate. You get your air?" he asks, half asleep waiting for me. He's seemed to be doing that a lot lately since he's decided to marry Hermione. I guess he doesn't want me thinking that I'll leave the picture when things become permanent. He's a good man; Hermione deserves him.

I smile and nod, hoping the flush on my cheek has disappeared.

"Something up?" he asks. I still must be red in the face. I should learn to control my anger.

"No, Ron. I'm fine. I just had to run to get up here. Filtch was on my back for almost the entire way." I wonder if he can tell that I'm lying. Any other day he probably would. But, tonight, he shrugs.

"I can't stand that guy. He's legally allowed to follow you around the school like some creep. It's ridiculous."

"Couldn't agree more, Ron," I sigh, relieved. I'm glad he's decided to be unobservant tonight. It definitely calms my nerves. "Goodnight, Ron."

"Night, Harry," he mumbles before calling it a night. I'm more than willing to welcome the silence in order to figure out some details on my own.

I think first that you may be trying to fool with me. It wouldn't be the first time that you've gone out of your way to torment me. _That_ is something that I've come to expect. But, I wouldn't say that I've believed you tonight. I can't trust you. I've never been able to trust you. We were meant to hate each other. Easy as that.

But, what if you aren't? What if you truly do love me? How do I react?

Wait… what am I thinking? I don't react. This is your problem, not mine. You love me. It isn't the other way around. I hate you. But, you've done nothing to change my mind on that matter. Well, besides confess your love, which I refuse to believe. For now at least.

Even if you are only toying with me, why? How can you be so heartless as to try to provoke me through one of the most pure of emotions? Of course I'm rude towards you. But, I do it with cause. I would never go out of my way to harm you. I would never do that to anyone. I'm no saint, but I try to act as a decent human being. But, who am I to judge? I don't know where you come from. All that I know of you is your cruelty, and for that, I'll never respect or trust you. I shouldn't even say that I hate you. I nothing you.

Yes, nothing you seems to make more sense than anything. I've watched you before. I have. It isn't something that I've seen as anything but purely studying. Know thy enemy. You're most prepared when you know what to expect. And I've always expected your devious mind. You are smart; I'll give you that. This did rattle me. But, I've always gotten to the bottom of things. And you're another puzzle that I'll figure out.

For now though, I need to rest. It's simple as that.

I walked to breakfast with Ron as usual. I hoped that when we sat down, he wouldn't notice me trying to get a read on you. He hadn't. He was too consumed in Hermione. For once, I wasn't bothered.

You seemed particularly upset today, but that would make sense. You were sporting a somewhat noticeable bruise directly under your eye. If last night was true, you were turned down and punched in the face. If you were only trying to get a rise from me, you were still punched in the face. So, you have every right to be on edge this morning.

You haven't looked at me all morning, which brings two ideas to my mind.

One, you're ashamed that you're plan hadn't worked and you refuse to meet my gaze, afraid that I've finally won, in your eyes anyway. In my eyes, I've never lost to you.

Two, you're madly in love with me and embarrassed that I know and won't look at me for fear of rejection. Something tells me that you aren't used to rejection, and I hope that my first theory is the most correct.

Your eyes snap up from your food that you haven't touched. They meet mine cautiously and I try not to look away, but I'm embarrassed to be found of watching Draco Malfoy. Luckily, you look away again, and your frown deepens and your brow furrows. You must be thinking. You do that a lot. I wonder if you have anyone to talk to. I mean, I know that people fear you in some ways, but can they actually trust you? Can you actually trust them? Confide in them?

I know that you've recently lost your father. And, I do feel sorry for you. At least I had people to get me through Sirius's death. No one, not even you, should have to struggle alone, even if you do deserve it. And you know how rotten a person you are as well. You're devious and conniving and ruthless and malevolent and well, I'm no thesaurus, but you're evil. Simple as that.

I suppose that that has a lot to do with your upbringing. But, horrible people brought me up and I like to think that I'm not anything like you. In fact, I pride myself on the idea of being nothing like a Slytherin. Even if I hadn't asked the sorting hat to put me in anything but Slytherin, I still wouldn't have been able to call _that_ home.

Again, I catch you trying to see through your platinum hair to see me. Are you afraid of me? Are you afraid that I've told someone of our encounter? Sorry Draco, I was never much of a gossip.

Breakfast ends and we head to our classes. Luckily, I have private training with Lupin. Apparently I need the practice if I don't want to come close to a near death again from the all-powerful Voldemort.

I see you leave in the opposite direction of me, head hung in shame, and I figure that I'll give you some time to cool off before we eventually fight again.

And I realize something then. We haven't fought much at all this year. You've minded yourself, and well, I've never been one to instigate. Something in me hopes that you start fighting me again, because the alternative is unthinkable.

Lupin isn't where he should be, near the forest. I call for him, but no one answers. I even whistle, hoping that maybe his canine senses can pick up the slight sound. Nothing.

I head back to the school, taking my time, I have nowhere to be. And it's beautiful outside. There really is no excuse for missing it.

I hear a door slam on the side of the building and stop in my tracks to listen to the heavy steps make their way farther and farther from where I've decided to stand. The voice that belongs to the stomping person seems angry and frustrated. I follow safely behind. Like I said, I have nowhere to be.

The sun glares in front of me; making my eyes squint and making it impossible to see the person who is only yards in front of me.

The robe of the distressed student is tossed to the ground and I find it to be Slytherin. But, before I can play guess who with myself, you turn around and stare down at me as I let the fabric from the robe slip back to the grass below us.

The sun behind you is blinding, creating an ironic halo of light around your head. An angel? Nothing could be further from the truth.

"You, uh, dropped this Malfoy."

"I threw it to be precise Potter." There's that wit that I've been hoping for. "Following me?"

"No, not you exactly. Lupin didn't show for practice, so I was roaming."

"Ah." Didn't you believe me? "Well, get on your way then, eh, Potter? Wouldn't want you to throw another punch or anything."

I look at your eye and notice that the bruise looks heavier from so close. I wince in the slightest.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting you to well… go so low. That's still no excuse for destroying your face. So, hopefully you can accept my apology. I haven't said anything to anyone." You look surprised, and I wonder if you're surprised that I'm apologizing or that I haven't mentioned anything to anyone.

"Yeah, I guess I would have reacted the same if the tables were turned."

I laugh, almost to the point of snorting, I'm so relieved. "Oh, good. Ha! You know, Malfoy, I thought you'd run out of ways to torture me, so you'd come up with this little lie to drive me absolutely insane. I'm so glad I was right." I lay my hand on your shoulder, and notice that you aren't laughing with me. "Oh come on Malfoy, you know I'm not dumb enough to actually believe that you've fallen in love with me."

"I guess you're not dumb enough, Harry," you mutter quietly. You won't look at me. _Oh God_…

"Malfoy, you don't honestly…" I trail off, not wanting to say _and_ mean the words at the same time.

Your eyes widen when they finally meet mine. They look tear-filled, and I automatically know your answer.

"Why?" I ask, suddenly as confused as you seem to be.

Your expression goes from scared and anguished to furious. "Did you think that I asked for this _Potter_?"

I say nothing, stumbling backwards as I had the night before when the words first left your mouth.

In my silence, you continue. "Did you think that I asked to feel this way about you? That I woke up one morning and said, 'hey, I feel like falling in love today, and well, Potter is my worst enemy and he happens to be a boy, so why not him! That seems logical!' No, Harry, I have nothing for you if you want a 'why'. But, I would never sacrifice my name in order to torture you with what you called a little lie. I would never say something like this to you if I didn't mean it. And I do mean it Harry. And for some god-awful reason, I find it easier to think every damn day!"

You're crying now, and I find a sickening urge to grab onto you to comfort you. You're obviously broken, and no one has tried to fix you. Don't get me twisted, I don't want to care, but it's in my nature.

"And, you want to know the worst part?" you ask, as if there could be anything worse than what you've just said.

"What is it, Draco?" I figure that your first name may calm you, and I'm right. Your eyes light up the slightest at the sound.

"It's been like this for months now. I've had this awful pent up love for you of all people for months now, and the only person that came to my mind when I had wanted someone to trust with this secret was you. Because that's what you are, Harry. People can trust you… even a Death Eater's son can trust you."

You sigh, and I can understand the frustration of having something constantly on your shoulder. I can also understand how wonderful it feels to take away some of the weight.

"Draco, I am sorry about your father. I could help you, if you needed someone to talk to, I suppose. I've dealt with a lot of death, and I guess I can actually say that I understand what you're going through."

"Really? You'd help me, Pot- I mean, Harry?" You seem stunned. It's almost endearing. Well, not in some romantic way, but some sick puppy kind of way.

I shrug. "Well, I can't leave you like this. It looked like you were in trouble before I even got here. What happened?"

Your face turns red and you laugh the smallest amount. It's a nice sound. I don't think that I've heard you genuinely laugh before without the mockery coming along side it.

"I was kicked out of Herbology. Apparently I wasn't concentrating hard enough, my "mind was elsewhere."" You mimic. It's actually a fairly good impression.

"Ha, you, Malfoy? What had you so consumed that you had to be kicked out of class?"

"You, Potter." Your laughing stops, as does mine, and we take a minute to simply look at the other. I'm not really sure what you see in me, but I'm beginning to see a new side to you. And I could actually get to know this person. I think I unconsciously smile and look away. No matter who says it, the thought of someone thinking of you will make anyone blush.

"Come on," I say, picking up your robe from the ground and handing it to you. "Let's go eat something. I hear girls have ice cream when they're depressed. And it looks like you could use some "girl time.""

"I'm not gay, Potter." You laugh again, and the sound is actually starting to become soothing. Again, not something I expected from you.

"No, I didn't mean it like that!" I clarify, "I just meant that, you need to talk and well, when Ron and I need time like this, we call it 'girl time' because we get all sensitive and well… girly, I guess."

"I think I may have just fallen out of love with you."

"Really?" I ask hopefully.

You shake your head. "No, but it was nice to feel free for a second, right?" I nod, not bothering to fake a smile. It was nice to feel like I could let this go. "Are you worried that someone's going to see us, well, bonding? I guess I'll call it that."

"Not really. I've had worse things happen to me."

"It won't be easy you know. You, trying to be my friend. Or trying to counsel me, or whatever it is that you want to address this as."

"I never said it was going to be easy."

* * *

><p><em><span>Draco Malfoy<span>_:

I didn't bother putting my robes back on. It was too nice out, and I was honestly glad that I was kicked out of class. Well, I didn't plan to find you out here, again. But, it was a pleasant surprise. Especially after this morning at breakfast, I'd thought you'd hated me with the condescending glares that you were drilling towards me. I'd hate me if this were the other way around.

I wonder if you've ever actually hated me. I can always save that question for later, there's no use wasting time with you by making it as awkward as possible. Plus, there's always the chance that you'll come to your senses. One of the downsides to love? Well, it makes being away from you somewhat unbearable.

I still can't get over the fact that my stomach is doing turns right now. You aren't even speaking and I find myself hanging on your possible words and movements. I'm not used to this at all. I wasn't even sure I could like someone, let alone love someone. And to have it be a boy? _The Golden Boy_? My life practically screams irony.

The silence isn't as terrible as I'd feared it'd be. You don't look as if you want to say anything, and well, I'd rather you didn't. The only thing that I could possibly expect coming from your mouth is… 'Draco, it'd be great if you back off and die now.' And I guess you could say that that isn't something that I want to hear. I'm sure you'll say it eventually, but it's nice to pretend for now.

"Harry?" I ask, noticing my voice crack. I realize then that I've cried in front of you. That is entirely pathetic. I shouldn't be this weak, and I can't help but feel ashamed. Clearing my throat, you break whatever concentration you had and look over to where I've motioned my head. "Can I take you somewhere?"

You shrug and smile the slightest. "Sure."

"Well, follow me."

I lead us off of campus into the woods. It's always dark here, no matter what the weather is like. Today though, bringing you out here willingly, it seems lighter. I don't think that you notice, but I do. Things tend to brighten when you're around them. I hope that you know that.

"Where are we going, Malfoy?" I guess I don't expect you to call me Draco all of the time. It'll take some getting used to.

"Have some trust, Potter." Ha, I'd never think that I'd ask you to trust me. That's almost like asking a fish to fly. Well, in the muggle world, I guess.

You obviously see the strangeness in my previous statement because I hear you make the smallest laugh. It's a nice sound to break the silence.

Luckily, we're close to the clearing. I usually come here a few times a week. It's kind of a ritual. I'm not sure if anyone knows about this place, but as far as I know, I'm alone here.

"Here we are," I announce, clearing the vines and trees with magic to make the entrance a tad bit graceful.

"Wow…" I hear you murmur, stepping ahead of me. I'm not sure if you're surprised, or happy, or anything, but I'm hoping it's one of the first two.

"I, well, I found this place third year." I hadn't shown anyone my little hide out before.

"It's fantastic Malfoy! I mean, I didn't think that light could even get this deep into the forest." You look up above the lake we're now standing in front of and notice the blinding light that trickles to the water's surface. I guess that hadn't been the kind of light that I was looking for.

"Yeah, I didn't either." I don't think that you can understand that I mean _you_ when I refer to the light finally existing. But, I like that you can't understand me fully. I've never been one to completely let my guard fall.

In my own thought, I hardly notice the splashing sound. But, that immediately brings me to reality. You've decided to jump into the pool and I can see the ripples in the water from where you've entered. I try not to gawk as your upper body finds its way back to the surface. I've seen you shirtless before. Hell, I've seen you naked before. Quidditch practice! I'm not some creepy stalker who follows you to your rooms at night. I don't know the password to your room anyway…

But, there's something about the light. Something about the way the sun is bouncing off of the beads of water on your toned stomach that makes my breath hitch. Shaking my head, I look away. If you're going to try to be my friend, if you're going to go against nature to befriend me, the least I can do is stop looking at you like a meal, no matter how badly I seem to want you.

No, not in that way. But, I guess I'm not asking for your love either. I really only want you with me. No matter what you are to me, I only think that I need you there…

Need you there…

That thought hadn't happened before. I've never needed anything but myself. I've been frozen for so long, never needing anything from anyone until you showed up.

To think that it had taken you, your warmth, your fire, your magic, to finally melt through me, I didn't expect that.

I can't say that I've completely thawed. But, at least now I know that I can. And that means more to me than you'll ever know.

"Can't you swim, Draco?" you taunt from the water. Half of the smile I return comes from the challenge, the other half comes from hearing my name in your voice.

In a movement quicker than I had thought myself possible of, I had removed my clothing, leaving me in nothing but my boxers before jumping into the water. I hadn't thought until now that I hadn't ever swum in this lake. I'd sat around it, let my feet dangle into it, but I'd never actually fully entered the pool. And for god's sake was it cold!

"Holy hell, Potter! You couldn't have warned me how cold this water was?" I yelp, coming up from under the water to gasp. I feel the goose bumps rising on my skin and you laugh out loud, flipping back into the water. You don't seem affected by the cold, and that seems to comfort me in some strange way.

"A Malfoy? Bothered by the cold? Wait till Hogwarts hears about this!" You splash a huge wave of water into my face and I scream slightly. Your smile is entirely triumphant.

"You asked for it, Potter!"

I dive forward a land on top of your surprised body, forcing us both back into the cold. I barely make out what you scream before your head's under water, but I can hardly control my laughter, bringing the cold water in and out of my nose.

You're able to push us both back to the surface. Your hands have unconsciously found the small of my back, sending shivers through my spine at the warm contact. You automatically notice my reaction and throw yourself backwards. My face is reddening.

"Sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to… um, touch you." You're apologizing? "Maybe we shouldn't horse around like that. I don't want to make this uncomfortable for you."

You aren't, I want to say.

"I'm sorry," I whisper almost inaudibly. You look up, having looked away from me, almost desperately sorry for making me uncomfortable in your attempt to befriend me.

"For what? It isn't your fault."

"It isn't yours either, Harry. I'm sorry. It's just that I wasn't expecting to be so close to you and well…"

"What?" I don't exactly want to say anything right now. I think I've been talking too much lately.

"I really don't want to say it…"

"I think it would help," you almost plead. My heart turns over. You really want to know me. You really want to understand me, help me.

"I really liked it. More than I should." My eyes close tightly. This was actually harder than saying 'I love you.'

You're silent, and without seeing your expression, it's hard to tell if you're simply disgusted or not. I don't chance the sight; I just bear the silence blindly.

Finally, when I can't tolerate the uncomfortable quiet any longer, I open one eye at a time to see you simply staring at me. Your expression is emotionless. I bite my tongue, refusing to ask you what you're thinking.

The silence is broken with your steady and deep breath.

"Does it feel better to say it?" you ask. I mull it over for a few moments before deciding. And in my own surprise, I actually do feel somewhat better, having you know.

I nod, not sure if I can trust my voice.

You give a half smile in return and I can tell that helping someone has helped you. What a sick git! You get off on making people feel better! Joking, of course. It's remarkable.

"You know, Malfoy, you'll get tired of me," you say, wryly, laughing. "Soon, you'll go right back to hating me."

Oh… you're only spending time with me in the off chance that I'll grow tired of your company.

"Well, I guess I can only hope for the best, Potter," I grumble, wading my way towards the shore.

Noticing my change, you follow after me. My robes are slightly wet, but a drying spell clears it up in seconds.

"Did I say something wrong, Draco?" You switch between names so quickly; it's beginning to be easy to tell when you're trying to be serious with me.

I turn to face you and notice that I am the slightest bit taller than you are. Your hair's a tangled mess of wet, and I can feel my hands tremble with the want to touch your skin. But, I try to force the need away. It's almost painful to keep my eyes pinned to yours. Don't get me wrong, your eyes are beautiful, but right now, the physical attraction is winning.

And at that thought, my stomach churns. Not in the lovey dovey way that it had earlier, but in the, 'Oh good lord why am I thinking these things,' way. I'm physically disgusted with myself. It isn't bad enough that I love you, but now I want you?

"Draco, are you feeling well?" Your hand makes contact with my shoulder, and the same shudder runs trills down my body. Without meaning to, I turn my head towards your hand, letting your dampened hand rub against my cheek. My eyes close at the touch and I sigh.

Your hand pulls sharply away, and my eyes flash wide. How can I be this foolish?

"Harry, I'm sorry." I slowly move to the ground, bringing my knees under my chin, and staring blankly at a blade of grass about two feet away. "I don't want this any more than you do. If anything, I want it even less."

"Listen, Draco-," you begin.

"Why?" I interject. "Why are you still here? Why are you helping me? Why are you trying?"

You sit down beside me and lay into the grass. I continue to keep myself seated upright, and focus on not reaching over to touch your bear bronzed stomach.

"I really don't know, Draco. I guess it's because I know where you're coming from."

"Is there another Golden Boy? You've fallen in love with him and have come to give me advice?"

You laugh lightly, brightening me slightly.

"No, but I can understand how it feels to run from something. I know how it feels to lose someone. I know how it feels to be alone."

_But, you're stronger than me._

"It may not look like it, but even I can't deal with it sometimes. I try, though. I'm still trying. It doesn't ever go away. Some days it'll kill you. Some days it will completely own you. But, some days, it'll feel like nothing wrong ever happened." You pause and breathe. "And those days are what make life worth living."

"I don't think I'll get tired of you, Harry." Again, I hope that by saying it, I'll feel better. "But, I don't want you to feel obligated to be here because you find some guilt in my situation. If anything, you should feel like a saint for not rubbing the fact in my face."

"Is that what you thought I meant? Is that why you think I'm here?"

"Yes," I answer honestly. But, I instantly feel terrible for thinking it.

"I'm sorry I made you think that." You sit up so that we're eye level. Grey versus Green, and I wonder what you see when you look at me. "I can't give you what you want to give me. But, I can try to know you, Draco. I give you my honest promise that I'll try."

"Thank you, Harry," is all I manage to say. "You're not really helping yourself though."

"What do you mean?"

I smile and look towards my knees. "You're making it easier for me to feel like this."

"You're such a girl, Malfoy," you joke, chuckling to yourself.

I punch you softly in the arm, not wanting to leave a mark like you had on me.

"Please, I'm better looking than any girl in this school."

We both laugh then. It's nice to be happy, together. God, _I am a girl_.

"At least you haven't lost the arrogance," you tease.

"You're a jerk," I snap back, still laughing.

"Well, you don't seem to be denying it."

I get to my feet and tower over you, expecting you to say something else.

"You challenging me, or something, Malfoy?"

"I'm not inviting you to Yule Ball," I come back with. You smile and move to your feet.

"Then come on, Malfoy, let's see what you've got. What's the challenge?"

I think. I hadn't wanted to challenge you to anything. But, I finally come up with the idea. I know you'll win, but I may not get this chance again.

"Quidditch match? You and me. Seeker versus Seeker. You up for it, Potter?"

You sneer and shrug. "Ready to lose? I'm somewhat of a seeking genius. Or did you forget?"

I think I know a little more about your skill that you know. I'll admit that I've watched you practice alone. I'm not ashamed to think it. Admit my stalking and covering up for it later? That I won't own up to, ever.

You pick up your clothes and smirk, "I guess you're not afraid to make the challenge tonight? Say around ten thirty? Hopefully the dark won't totally scare you, oh wizarding genius!" I laugh sarcastically.

"I think I can arrange that."

In a moment, you're out of the forest, leaving me alone to think of what's happened to me.

In less than a day, I've gone from worst enemy, to almost friend. The change is surreal.

But, I think tonight, we'll skip my troubles. I want to know more about you.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Harry Potter<strong>_:

A night meeting with the Prince of Slytherin.

I can only imagine the headlines: Golden Boy Sides with Snakes. The Lion Who Found His Courage…

_This may be a bad idea_.

I walk to my dorms slowly after vanishing from the woods. For some reason, my heart is still thumping from our encounter. I wonder if it's from the magic of transporting entirely, or just the encounter in general. I don't think that I want an answer. I don't want to find that it's you making my nerves turn on end.

But, how can you blame me if it is? You're in love with me. I'm certain of that. I have to mind every action I make around you. For once, you're fragile. And I think that that's what makes you most afraid. For once, you know what can break you, and I hold your cards and mine. This isn't comforting; please understand that.

You may think that I enjoy having this power over you. You are my enemy; well, you were my enemy.

I've never been the kind of person to demand power or demand control of others. And you're part of that. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone. That's a lie. I'd like to hurt a few people. I'd wanted to hurt you drastically when you were hurting my friends. I'd wanted to hurt Ron when he had proposed to Hermione. I'd wanted to hurt every Death Eater after Sirius's death. I'd wanted to kill before… But, I'm not strong enough.

I _can't_hurt anyone. As much as everyone would like to believe, I am only human… for the most part. Sorry to disappoint you.

After whispering the password to the Gryffindor tower, I walk carefully inside, making sure that no one had followed me or watched me in my idea to skip the rest of the day. Classes are over rated anyway. For as many times as I've saved this place, I deserve a personal day here and there.

I find the common room to be the most comfortable. It's much better than being cramped in a room that's shared by five to six boys. In a basic fact, it's disgusting.

I wonder how the Slytherin rooms are briefly.

Something tells me that you aren't one to oblige to a messy atmosphere. You seem to keep everything in order. Your entire life has been structured, laid out. But, I guess that that isn't always the best thing.

You have probably never failed at anything. You've probably never been allowed to.

Failure was expected of me from my muggle family. But, not being allowed to fail is different from not being able to fail. If I fail here, now, I destroy everything. If I can't win, well… it isn't just me that loses.

Can you understand that kind of pressure? Sometimes I think that no one really can.

I meant what I said though. We are undeniably similar. I actually can relate to you in a strange way. I know that that doesn't necessarily help my situation, but I can think it.

I also meant what I said when I said that you would grow tired of me. You will. You'll realize that I'm not worth the trouble and you'll go right back to hating me. You're smarter than the rest of them. You'll understand the hopelessness in your situation. You'll realize that this isn't what you want, and you'll pretend it never happened. You have the chance of a life. There really isn't anything stopping you now.

People would probably feel odd if they knew the true extent of my pessimism. They only view the "heroism," the "fearlessness," the outer shell. No one truly knows who I am. They can't understand that this isn't at all what I'd wanted for myself. I'd give a thousand lives to be anyone other than myself for even a day. You'll never truly feel the weight on your shoulders. It's a lot to carry.

I hadn't realized the time when I'd fallen into though, because before I know it, the entire flock of Gryffindor students pour through the door like a flood of wild animals, screaming and thrashing about, all considered my "friends," but only two that I can call friends.

Ron breaks in first. He's wearing his worried face until he locates me still resting on the couch. Hermione is right behind him. As always, they're together. That's the way it should be though. Still, I can't help but feel the knot in my stomach thicken. Soon, they'll be gone too. It hurts to think, but I've found that lying to myself isn't at all what it's cracked up to be.

"Oy 'Arry!" he shouts over the noise. "Where were you all day?"

"Private lessons with Lupin," I lie quickly. "Sorry to make you worry."

"Harry, at least tell someone where you'll be. You haven't been yourself for weeks now. We worry, you know."

I've noticed that lately it hasn't been "I" or "me" coming out of either Ron or Hermione's mouth. It's been "we" for a long time. I've gotten used to it.

"I'm sorry, guys… it's just been rough with Sirius and every-."

I stop, neither of you are listening. You've gotten lost in each other's eyes again and even Gryffindor's wonder boy can't break through that.

"Harry, did you say something?" Hermione asks. She's oblivious. But, can I blame her? She's in love. Hey, maybe I'll send her to you…

Only kidding. I wouldn't do that to her or you for that matter.

"Nothing Mione, I'll see you two later, I have some studying to catch up on."

I leave the room, seeing everyone fitting somewhere. It's perfectly balanced from my view. But, when I look outside myself, I don't seem to belong here.

Shaking my head, I head towards the library. I honestly could use the study, and my lack of academic advancement lately could be a wonderful distraction.

Luckily, I find myself alone at the table I choose. I know that Ron and Hermione will ask me again later about my quick disappearances. But, I'm sure I'll find something to tell them by then.

I revel in the silence for a long while. I've been doing this quite a lot lately. I don't think that people appreciate the silence enough. They try so hard to fill the air with noise, finding the quiet to be awkward. But, I see silence as safety. If it's quiet, nothing's happening. Even now, it isn't completely noise free. I'm not alone. Not that I want to be. But, it's difficult to explain. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want to be with anyone. Kind of a paradox.

xxxxxxxx

So, I guess even in semi quiet, you can still manage to fall asleep. Good to know.

I rub my eyes of sleep, and wipe the dried drool from the corner of my mouth, wondering how truly attractive I must look at the moment. My glasses have been pressed to my forehead for god knows how long and I must have the biggest red mark on my cheek from resting on my arm.

Looking towards the window, I notice the darkness. _Oh crap_!

The clock on the wall reads 10:34, and I'm four minutes late to my challenge with you. I'd fallen asleep for literally six hours, completely missing dinner and the entire night. I didn't think I'd been missing that much sleep lately.

Running from the now closed library, I headed for the Quidditch field, completely forgetting until I had made the journey that I hadn't a broom with me. Well, can't win without that.

I notice from the sidelines that you've already made yourself at home in flight. How long have you been out here?

Something I didn't expect to see… you're… happy?

Your eyes are closed in a dreamlike fashion while the wind you've created sweeps through your blonde hair. Your skin matches almost perfectly to the moon behind you, and I can feel something strange stir within me. I hope it's the lack of food from not eating lunch or dinner today…

Finally opening your eyes, you look towards the ground and notice me there. Your eyes light in the slightest and I can feel myself holding in a smile.

"You're late," you say, removing yourself from your broom. "And broomless."

"Yeah… I fell asleep in the library…" I explain. "Didn't sleep much last night, I guess."

"Neither did I," you joke, pointing towards your still bruised eye.

"Hey, it's looking better," I reply honestly. "Well, I'm not sure what else to do, I'm kind of at a disadvantage."

"Well, I suppose we don't have to play some sport…"

"Then what do you want to do?" I almost regret asking that question. Luckily, nothing perverted leaves your mouth. Ha, I can't believe I'd even expected it.

"Do you trust me?"

"No," I answer quickly. You don't seem upset; you only nod.

"Do you think you can try? For tonight?"

"I don't know what you're getting at here Malfoy, I'm not about to…" I trail off, letting you finish the thought and make what you want of it. I'm not sure what I'd be willing to do… with you… alone… at night… oh good lord, I've made a huge mistake coming here!

"Harry, I'm not coming onto you," you smirk as if you can read my mind. "I just wanted to know you better… in a purely mental way. That is entirely it. I promise."

But what if this is some kind of-

"This isn't some game Harry." You walk to me slowly, letting your broom slip to the grass. I hold my stance and my breath when you've placed yourself mere inches from me. With the slightest movement of your hand, you let your freezing fingers trail lightly over the hand at my side.

Slowly, they trail up my forearm, leaving ice in their place. I wonder why I haven't stopped you yet. A slight shiver finds its way up my spine and I convince myself that it's the unnatural coldness of your hands that's caused this.

Then, unexpectedly, your hand finds my jaw. You lightly trace a line to my temple and over my forehead, through my hair and I swear that I hear you mutter something about 'soft raven hair.'

"I want to know the boy behind the scar…" You never touch the actual place on my head though. I find that odd. Usually that's the interest. Where it came from, how it came to be… but you want to pretend it didn't exist.

Do I want you to know him?

Do I know how to be him anymore?

For so long, this has been my definition. Admit it, who do you know who actually thinks of Harry Potter and doesn't think about the scar and the story behind it? No one.

I turn my head away slightly, forcing you to break contact.

"No, you don't…" I'm not sure if the words come out or if I'm only telling myself.

"Yes, Harry. I do." You walk away to give me some room to breathe, and I do just that, having held it in for so long. "I've wanted to for a long time now. And I've never wanted to do this with anyone, so if you don't mind, please go easy here."

"Why…" I find myself mumble. This is the only coherent thought screaming through my head at the moment.

You pause, still not looking at me. I notice your slight shrug. "I didn't take time to write an outline, Potter," you laugh, finally looking at me. "But, it's strange you know, when you love someone, you realize how much you don't know about them. You want to know more though. You always want more."

"I wouldn't know…"

"You've never been in love Potter? I thought if you were loved by all, you'd find more than enough choices."

It's my turn to feel embarrassed. "No, I haven't."

And that's where we start. You ask me to follow you to the middle of the field. I follow you.

You go through more questions than a game show and I don't believe anyone, not even the press, has asked me this many questions.

The thing is, they aren't normal questions, for me any way.

You want to know things as simple as my favorite color, and find it strange when I say that it's red. You've seemed to take a liking to green, and you blushed when I ask you why.

"_It's the color of your eyes, Harry,"_ you said. That was nice to hear.

Soon, it's getting to be late. We must have been here for hours. Somehow throughout the night, we'd both ended up lying in the field. It didn't occur to me that we were in plain sight. But, it'd been so quiet for a few minutes that I wasn't worried.

"Draco," I called, flat on my back. There was no answer.

I crawl onto my knees and wander over to where you lay. You've fallen asleep. A slight snore escapes your mouth and I find that funny. The wondrous Malfoy has a sinus problem.

I nudge your shoulder slightly.

"Quit, Potter," you mumble sleepily. "I'm sleeping."

Sighing heavily, I take you into my arms. I'm too exhausted from the game show to carry on with you. And I refuse to let you out here alone.

Walking back into the school, I'm careful not to make a sound, just in case Filch is lurking somewhere near.

I notice the smell of your hair when I find myself in front of the Slytherin Portrait. It smells of a soft mint and vanilla. Without thinking, I take a deeper sniff and quickly pull you away when I feel that my eyes have lidded themselves in the sensation.

My quick movement has caused you to unconsciously latch onto me tighter, still dreadfully asleep.

"Draco," I whisper, "What's your password?"

You mutter something inaudible and the door swings open with a slight creak. I cringe at the sound, hoping to God that your friends cannot hear this late at night.

As if I have some strange sixth sense, I know exactly where to take you, and I'm elated to find that all of your roommates are fast asleep. Dead asleep by this time of night.

I drop you carefully into your bed and you unhook yourself from my neck. Cautiously pulling the covers from under you, I tuck you in. You really aren't so awful to look at when you're sleeping. In fact, you're fairly… beautiful.

Beautiful?

My hand moves slowly to touch your forehead to remove a stray strand from your eyes. You sigh from the touch and I lean down to whisper my last question for the night.

"Draco?" I ask, you mumble incoherently, so I think you can hear me.

I once heard that people often speak their true feelings while in sleep… maybe I could really hear you now.

"Draco, do you actually love me?"

Silence begins and I can feel my body move downward inside. I'm not sure if I feel disappointed or…

"I love you, Harry Potter."

Oh._Wow…_

I stare at you, eyes wide. You're definitely still out. That was pure honestly, and for the briefest moment, I'm the happiest I've been in a long time. But, that quickly slips away when I realize that it's you…

Leaning closer, I press my lips to your forehead gently.

"Good night, Draco…"

I leave the room as quickly as possible, running as fast as I can through the empty hallways to the Gryffindor tower.

_Did I just… kiss? Draco Malfoy_, I scream at myself.

And I wanted to? I actually wanted to kiss you goodnight?

I close my eyes tightly, refusing to go into my room until I can calm myself. How am I supposed to get out of this one?

_Do I want to?_

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy:<strong>

It's been a while since I can actually say that my previous night had been pleasant. Not that I've never had a nice day or anything, but like I said, it's been some time.

I'm sure it didn't mean quite as much to you as it did to me, for you to open up as much as you did, but your story… I've never heard anything like it.

"_Voldemort isn't really as bad as you'd think," you said, raking a hand through your already disheveled hair. That was a habit of yours when you were trying not to sound impressive, like you regretted what you've just said, so you need to distract yourself._

_I laughed, like what you said obviously couldn't have been true. But, you're Harry Potter. Of course a little thing like death wouldn't scare you._

"_What's so funny?"_

"_I'm just surprised that you're so comfortable saying his name. My father wasn't even relaxed when he would speak of the Dark Lord."_

_It's your turn to laugh. You actually find my surprise at your boldness to be as ridiculous as my thoughts of you actually saying the… well, the V word._

"_Draco, you do remember that it's a yearly occurrence that Voldemort and I try to kill each other. I suppose that puts us on a first name basis."_

"_How aren't you afraid of him? His name scares, and you talk about him like he's some annoying cousin."_

_You stop laughing then. I'm not sure if I've said something wrong or if you've just had some kind of bipolar reaction._

"_There are worse things than your own death…"_

_Trailing off, you look towards the moon. I imagine that you're thinking of Sirius, hoping that wherever his death has taken him, he's watching it with you._

"_But, you could probably understand that," you say after a moment of silence. You don't want to bring down the lightness of the night, but this is what I want. I want to know you, understand you._

"_My father's death didn't mean much, Harry."_

"_You say that now. But, you'll come to miss him. In some sick way, he's made you who you are, and well, you'll feel almost lost for a period of time."_

"_I don't want to be like him anymore. I did want to, out of fear for a while, but I'm free now, to do as I please, and I will not subject myself to his life…"_

"_Draco," you almost say painfully. "You may not have a choice."_

_I nod, refusing to allow the thought to sink in any deeper than it already has. I won't be him. I won't dedicate my life to hurting someone that I love. He's not right, he never was. You were never the enemy. I was never Draco Malfoy until Lucius died. Now that I'm beginning to find myself, there is nothing that I would want less than the future that my father had planned out for me._

"_There's always a choice." The words are more bitter than I want them to be, but you don't seem to be taken aback by it._

I'm not sure as to when I fell asleep last night, but I know for certain that I hadn't come to my room alone. I come to the theory of you carrying me off to bed and I smile at the thought of you taking care of me.

As much as I'd hate to admit it, I like the thought of you taking care of me. For some reason, I don't think that you'll ever hurt me on purpose. I don't mean that you feel anything towards me, but I know that you at least care enough about me to help me struggle through this. But, you'd do that for anyone…

Which is a good thing. Like I'd said before, I don't want you to love me back. I'm not good for you. There's better out there and you deserve the absolute best. So, knowing that I'm only another project kind of helps ease the want in some sick way.

Is that strange? To feel comforted because of an impossible situation? I actually like wanting you without wanting you to want me. That sounds almost delusional.

Either way, I wasn't sure what I'd expected to happen last night. To be perfectly honest, I didn't really even expect you to show.

But, I should have known better than to think that you'd go back on your word.

What was extremely unexpected was having you actually let some of your guard down.

"_There aren't as many people as you would think that try to know me, Draco," you said._

"_What about Granger and Weasel?" You scowl slightly and I quickly apologize. Old habits die hard._

"_They don't seem to have as much time for me anymore. I don't know… I don't want to bore you with my troubles, Malfoy."_

I can tell that this bothers you. But, why? You could find new friends in an instant. Why does losing these two bother you so immensely?

"_Why? Why do they bother you? Harry, people would die for you, why do they even matter?"_

_You shrug. "I guess when you've discovered that you lose everyone you love just by simply loving them, you tend to become somewhat discouraged when that fact is proven right again."_

"_So, the people you love leave you? That's not so boring. It kind of hits home, but in a different way."_

"_Really? How so?"_

_I suppose it's my turn to comfort you. But, I don't think that I know how._

"_Harry, I'm not loved. By anyone."_

"_But everyone in Slytherin-."_

"_Fears me," I finish for you. "They fear me. Nothing more. And let me tell you, if I could go home knowing that someone loved me somewhere, even if I didn't know who they were, or if I'd lost them in some way, well… I'd take that over the pain of nothing any day. You don't know how lucky you are."_

"_Thank you, Draco…"_

_I nod. "Anytime you want to battle who has the worst life, let me know."_

_Your laughter almost made it worth telling you my little sob story._

That was what put me to sleep.

But, how did I end up in my own bed?

Turning to look at the alarm clock near the bed, I notice that the time is already afternoon. And after scrambling around and searching for missing articles of clothing that I must have tore off during the evening, I realize the day. Saturday. And I crawl back into bed.

Before I have time to relax again, helpless in the ridiculous high that you've left me in, Blaise barges into our dorms. Huffing a heavy breath, I sit upright and run a hand through my undeniably messy hair. I have a reputation to uphold here.

"Waking up some time to day, Draco?" he asks coyly, I'm sure that there's a reason for his strange attitude.

"What's it to _you_, Blaise?" I recoil. His smirk is beginning to become unnerving.

"Nothing really." He takes a seat next to me on the bed and I can't help but feel a little trapped. "What'd you do last night? Didn't hear you come in until around two. Got some girl we don't know about?"

I want to laugh. _No, I have some boy you know all about_.

"No, Blaise. I'm not out gallivanting with girls at all odd hours of the night."

He laughs, and my worry subsides.

"I guess that would make sense, considering you've been seemingly hitting it off with Potter."

What the hell-

"So, I'm right." I guess my face had told it all. But I try to recover quickly, what else am I supposed to do?

"Wha-what are you talking about?"

"Well, last night, I'd followed Harry to the Quidditch field, hoping to find him alone, but well, who do I find him meeting? None other than the infamous Draco Malfoy.

"So, I leave you alone, thinking you're personally going to destroy Potter, once and for all. Something your father could never do. But what do I find out later?"

Oh Gods…

"Ha! Guess what I hear this morning? I'm walking to breakfast, and I see Harry. Well, he's alone and he asks me if I've seen you yet this morning. I tell him that I haven't and he leaves it at that. I figure, it's your fight and you can do what you want with him.

"But, then, Weasel comes up behind him and starts asking him where he was last night. He eventually pulls out of him that he was out, until god knows when, helping you with something.

"My jaw fell to the floor, Draco. I can't believe that you spent that much time with Scarhead without killing him off finally. So, I listen a little closer.

"I don't exactly hear what Weasel asks. But, Potter actually sticks up for you. He says, and I quote, "He has it a little harder than we think, Ron. He's actually a decent human being, when he's not, well, who we thought he was.

"Who's the Malfoy they're talking about?"

Against my better judgment, I lie. He doesn't need to know. I wouldn't do that to you.

"No idea, Blaise. Sounds pretty pathetic if you ask me." I stand up to further enhance the effect, pacing the room. "He thinks he knows me? Oh, right. Because I'd trust wonder boy. I'd be this 'decent human being' to Harry Potter!"

Snorting, I sit back down. His eyebrow arches in suspicion, but he says nothing, considering my story.

"Yeah, I wonder what he's playing at, Draco." He moves towards the door and I breathe in the breath that I've held since he'd entered the room. "Either way… something weird's going on. And I guess I thought more of it because of this dream I had last night."

Good, a new topic.

"What happened?" I ask, hoping to keep him off of the topic of you and I.

"Well, I have this crazy ass dream that _he_ came for me, telling me that it was my time. And in the dream, my arm was burning like crazy, and I thought, well, how could it burn, you don't feel pain in dreams. But, when I woke up, it felt like someone had poured burning lead onto my wrist and forearm. It hurt so much.

"But, after I fell back asleep, when my arm stopped burning, I'd thought that I heard Potter in here, dragging you into bed and asking you if you loved him? And you said 'I love you Harry Potter.'"

He stopped talking and burst into a laugh, whether it was to cloud the nervousness of the situation, I'm not entirely sure, but either way, it felt like a denial laugh. He'd wanted to convince himself that both 'dreams' were false.

"Wild imagination."

He scratches his head and opens the door, "I suppose so. But, Draco…"

"What?"

"In my first dream, the dream with um… Voldemort, he mentioned you. He said something about remembering what side you're on."

"Oh, well, I don't know what that means."

"Just a dream, right?" he asks. Again, I'm not sure if he wants me to actually answer him or not.

I nod, fearful that I may say something strange to alter his new oblivious state of mind.

"Okay, good. All I really need to know. But, you should try to get something to eat. It'll help your eye if you get some vitamins in you."

"What are you? Some fairy nurse all of a sudden?"

"Pfft, with such delicate men like yourself in the trade, what good would I bring to the table?" The insults let me know that he is back to knowing absolutely nothing. That's always comforting.

Once again, I'm alone. I wonder why you've decided to defend me. I didn't expect you to even mention me to your friends. And now you're actually complementing me, in some off way?

I wish I could be that brave.

With my stomach growling and clothes almost entirely on, I decide to venture down to lunch.

By now, the hall is filled. My usual seat is empty with what you would call, 'my friends' around it.

Quickly, I scan the area for you and find that you're leaving.

My stomach can wait.

Trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible, I follow you.

"Potter!" I call. You stop and turn to me. Your worried face relaxes slightly and that brings questionable feelings to replace my empty stomach.

"Malfoy, listen, I need to talk to you about-."

"Wait," I interrupt. "Blaise found me this morning, and well, did you happen to carry me into bed last night?"

"Yes, you fell asleep outside. I got you back here. But that doesn't matter, Draco, I don't think-."

"Harry, I know you're trying but I don't want you to ruin yourself to try to help me. Blaise almost found out about well, my situation. You really did ask me if I loved you last night while I slept."

"Yes, I did and Draco I-."

"Harry, you can't trust Slytherins. Believe me, I know. You shouldn't feel safe around them." You look exhausted from the quickness of the conversation, but I need to get out the warning before we're spotted actually conversing in a mature manor.

"I didn't think anything of it really. But, you have to understand something."

"Oh," one more thing. "You don't have to defend me in front of your friends. I don't want to be the cause of your trouble. That's the last thing that I want to do, Harry. So, you can lie to your friends, I wont be offended. I swear."

"I wanted to defend you," you hardly whisper. I cock my head to the side, confused in the slightest. I'd thought that you felt obligated. "Draco, I-," you step forward a few steps to close the distance between us to no more than a foot. "I didn't know at the time why I wanted to ask you. But, when I knew for sure, I'm sorry. I guess I still had that doubt. But, when I heard it from you without you knowing that I was asking you, well… I haven't felt that… whole in a long time."

"What are you saying Harry?" I don't think that my heart's pounded this quickly in my entire life. But, when your warm hand makes contact with my icy cheek, my heart stops completely. I'm surprised that I can stand at all.

That feeling soon dies when the pain begins.

My arm begins to burn like wild fire and I fall to the ground, convulsing, letting the pain take me while I scream.

"Harry!" I yelp helplessly, trying to put out the invisible fire. "Harry, my arm. What do I do? Holy hell! What's on my arm?"

You look and turn my arm in a few directions before coming to the conclusion that nothing is there.

"Draco, there isn't anything there. Agh-," you scream as well, ripping your arm away from me as if it were burning you too. Your hand rubs your scar, and the last thing that I see before I black out is you, stumbling to the ground as I have, calling for help.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When I awake, it's dark. I'm not sure if I've gone blind or if the room I've found myself in is this unbearably dark.

"Harry?" I groan, the pain is still unimaginable.

Nothing answers but footsteps.

"Hello, Draco," the voice hisses, making the burning in my arm feel anew in its intensity. "It's time."

* * *

><p><em><span>Harry Potter<span>_

"Good God! Someone help!" I scream before becoming unconscious with the pain.

"Harry? Harry? Harry! Ronald, he's waking up."

I adjust myself onto my elbows and reach blindly around for my glasses. And unknown hand locates them for me a places them on my face.

"Hermione? Ron? What are you doing here?"

"Harry, don't you ever do that to me again! Do you understand? You had me worried sick! Harry! Quit wandering off like that and pay attention to me!"

Oh, now I can remember… I remember everything.

"Yeah, oh good lord, my head." Hermione traces the scar lightly, checking for any kind of actual burn.

"Harry, there isn't anything there. What's wrong? What happened before you fell?"

My eyes close, trying to envision the scene in my head. Nothing comes at first, until

"Draco."

"You mean Malfoy, ay mate? What about him?"

"He was with me," I say. "He was hurting. His arm was burning. Is he okay? Where is he?"

They both exchange glances and I watch them, expecting an answer.

"Harry, you were alone out there. We found you already out. I thought maybe it was because of lack of sleep lately."

"No, I'm fine." That wasn't entirely a lie; I was used to the head pain. But, I was certain that I wasn't there alone. You were with me, I'd bet my life on it.

"This doesn't have anything to do with last night, does it Arry?"

"What happened last night that you aren't telling me Harry?" Hermione interjects. Bless Ron's heart for actually keeping something from her.

"Nothing Mione. I just need to know if he's okay."

"Harry spent a good bit of the night out with Ferret boy. Says he was helping him with some school stuff."

Hermione laughs.

"What's so funny?"

"Why would he come to you of all people for school help?" she chuckles. I roll my eyes. "But, in all seriousness Harry, why did you see him yesterday?"

I shrug, "_He_ wanted to meet _me_."

"And you complied? Harry, that's unbelievably stupid! What were you thinking? What if he were tricking you? What if this was all some diabolical plan to take you out for good, Harry! Honestly, where is your head lately?"

"He's changed," I answer simply. What else can I say about you?

"Into what? He's an actual snake now? Harry, are you honestly listening to yourself? You sound utterly ridiculous!"

Strange, I thought Hermione saw better in people.

"You don't know him!" I defend.

"And you do?"

"Well, yeah. I do Hermione. I know him pretty well."

She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Arry, we didn't get to talk long this morning before Mione came. You want to elaborate a little on just what exactly you were doing with him yesterday?"

I throw my head back against the pillow. "What else can I say besides he's changed, Ron. He's actually got a heart under all of that outer shell."

"What are you saying, Harry?"

_What am I saying?_

"I'm saying that, we were wrong. I was wrong. He was just dealt a wrong hand and well, he's trying to change. He's trying to stop hurting; himself and others."

"That's it, he's gone completely bonkers! Arry, I understand you wanting to save the world, one depressed attention starved life sucker at a time, but it's Malfoy."

"Ronald," Hermione stops him. "Harry, you're entirely serious. You've actually found yourself… well…"

"What, Mione?"

She chokes back a small cough and inhales deeply. "Friends, with Draco?"

I nod, knowing nothing else to do at the moment. I am your friend. I want to be your friend, and after last night, after knowing how much you want to be with me, for me, knowing how hopeless that is, I think that I may even…

"Why Harry? He isn't good for you! If anything, he'd like to see you dead. It isn't as if he hadn't openly threatened you before."

"How would you know what's good for me?" I bark back. "Please, tell me how either of you know what's good for me."

"What are you getting at mate? We're your best friends."

"Are you kidding? For the last year I've been on my own with the two of you! And that was fine. I loved both of you enough to let you go. But, you have each other now. You can take care of the other. You don't need me and that's becoming clearer everyday."

"Harry, why didn't you tell us-."

"There you go with that 'us' thing again. I didn't realize that when I directed my voice towards one person that that meant that I was in fact talking to both of you as though you were one person."

I'm fuming now with the sudden rage. How dare they think that they know me. They don't know a damn thing. No one knows anything…

"Harry," she reaches out her hand to touch me and I flinch away. "Harry, I'm so sorry, we, I mean I didn't mean to-."

"To what?" I interrupt her. "To ignore me for all of this time? To not ask me what was wrong and actually wait for me to answer? To not see through this obvious shell that I've become? For god sakes Hermione, you know who I am, what I am, and you're sorry?"

"Easy mate, what did you expect us to do?"

"Oh I don't even want to start with you, Ron! You're supposed to be my best friend. I thought I could always come to you for anything. You're the worst of all!"

"Arry, I know it's been rough, but it's been rough all around. All the talking in the world isn't going to bring him back. I thought I was doing you a favor by staying out of your way in all of this."

Not really answering his question, I smirk with no ounce of happiness. "You know the worst part? I expected both of you to leave me some day. I mean, that's how life goes for me. So, I guess it's better to get it out of the way now."

Hermione is crying now, and I can't feel any remorse for my words. I'm sure at one point I would have poured out all of my sorry's. We would have both cried together and then laughed about the ridiculousness of the situation later. But, not today.

She stands and straightens out her attire. She looks like she wants to say something, but she only nods at me and bites hard on her lip. What more is there to say on my part?

Finally, she clears her throat. "If that's how you feel, Harry," she chokes. "Just be careful, okay? No matter what you say, _I_love you. And please take good care of yourself."

"Hermione, we aren't just going to leave." Ron is set to argue through the day, or whatever time it was at this point.

"Yes, Ronald, I am leaving. You can stay if you'd like." She leans towards me and kisses the scar on my forehead lightly. I feel a few stray tears that aren't my own sting my still burning cheeks.

Sighing, she turns to leave. I look up to Ron, expecting him to come back at me with either a punch to the jaw or at least a fairly uninteresting comeback. He was never good at sounding intelligent when he was angry, but he had a mean right hook. We're boys, we've fought before.

But, he didn't say a word. He shrugs and looks down at his hands, trying to decide, as I had thought earlier, on which hand to beat me up with.

"Listen mate, if you had a problem, why didn't you say something?"

"You wouldn't listen," I reply almost inaudibly. "You don't have time for me anymore, Ron."

"That isn't true, Harry, this whole thing with Hermione, we'll be married soon and it can go back to the way things were, we can all be some awkward family again it'll be perfect, Harry, I promise."

I smile genuinely at his efforts. He really is sorry, and I believe him. He never was a person that would intentionally hurt someone else. He was my best friend, but we were leaving each other now. He had someone else to be his best friend. He had Hermione, and he was lucky to have someone like her.

"No, Ron, it won't be like that again." I notice that he is about to argue his point further. "Please, just listen to me. I'm okay with that. You two deserve each other. If you're with me, you're putting your future in jeopardy. Doesn't Herm deserve a family? Doesn't she deserve to live a long happy life with you? Don't you?"

"I guess, but Harry, after everything you've done for us, after everything we've gone through together…"

"It all still happened, Ron. We'll still have all of the memories in the world. But, this is your future now."

He laughs humorlessly and sulks to the door. "You'll feel better in a few days and get back to normal. And I'll still be here when you do. I'm not going anywhere, Potter."

His words don't mean as much as he had meant for them to because they aren't true. He never needed me. Hermione never needed me. They could have had normal lives without me. They could have avoided so much pain and struggle, but they stayed. Damn masochists.

But, this ending was hurting more than the others had. I loved them both so much, so I could let them go, I could let them be happy.

But, what happens to me?

What happens to Harry Potter when he's lost everyone he's ever cared for?

What happens to Harry Potter when there's nothing left?

I'm out of everything. I'm out of love, out of hope, out of friendship, out of life.

Your name comes to mind. Like you're some kind of sign in my ridiculous haze of depression.

Then, I feel a sickening feeling in my stomach. The kind that never seems to go away, no matter how many times you think about rainbows and sunshine and all the pretty things that make the world an almost pleasant place to live. The tingle is almost a pain but it's not enough of a distraction, at least pain can do that, and I've had enough of pain.

I've had enough.

I know this feeling. And for once, I'm not letting it slip away.

Jumping from the bed I've found myself in, I run to the door and through the silent hallways of the school.

I'm not sure where I'm going exactly, but I know that I need to be somewhere.

And it hits me, literally.

Lying on the floor, I hop back to my feet to meet your grey eyed gaze.

"Draco," I begin, but my words aren't making sense in my head.

"What do you want, _Potter_?" you almost spit at me. "And if you wouldn't mind watching your step."

"Draco, are you all right? How's your arm? Where did you go? What happened?" I reach my hand out to take hold of your arm. I want to make sure that you aren't hurt too drastically.

Your arm flinches and your gaze turns to scowl. "Get your filthy hands off of me! And my current state is of none of your concern."

I rip my hand away from you and try to decipher through your words. That sickening feeling begins to lump again in my stomach. I'm not sure what to do now. I wasn't ever entirely sure.

"I-I thought that we were-."

"We were what, Potter? Friends? Was that what you were going to say? The precious Boy-Who-Lived wants to befriend the Prince of Slytherin." You chuckle coldly and there's something strange in your eyes. They aren't matching the coldness of your words. They seem worried.

"Because we are," I almost growl, gripping your wrist and pulling you as close as my comfort level will allow in order to make my hiss has effective as possible.

"Do you know who I am, Potter? Do you?" you almost whisper. "Didn't you once tell me that we were born to hate each other? How could you ever believe my lies after all I've done to you?"

_Lies?_

"What the hell are you saying, Malfoy?"

"Do I need to spell it out to you, _Harry_?" you pause as if that weren't a rhetorical question. "I've been playing you this entire time. And you believed every word. I didn't think that it would be so easy for you to trust me."

"You sick little prick!" I scream before punching you hard in the face. You stumble backwards and I hold my fist in my hand, shaking the pain away from it. "You slimy little git of a pig! How does this get you off, Malfoy? I actually was beginning to see you. I even had the absurd thought that I may have-."

Quickly I stop myself from the realization. Again, your eyes sparkle with the uncertainty and the blood from your lip trickles slowly before it turns into a devilish grin.

"Harry Potter, are you about to spill your heart out to me? Are you?"

My eyes are filling to the brim with frustrated tears and I punch the wall beside me, crying out in pain. "No! I wasn't about to pour my heart out to a filthy offspring of some Dead Death Eater!"

You smile and stand. I want so badly to hit you again, but I restrain myself.

"That's what I wanted to hear Potter. Go ahead, tell me how you feel. I'm all ears."

"I _hate_you, Draco."

And that was all to say.

I'll give you credit. You're quite the actor. But, again, I was wrong. I wanted to see something better. I wanted to let you in. I'd let you in, willingly.

Finally, I'd let someone know me. The boy that I'd thought had been lost along the way had been introduced to someone entirely new, someone I thought that I could call a friend. Someone I thought that I might even…

"How it should be, Potter."

Leaving with a smirk, you walk away, leaving me alone to myself, in more ways than one.

"I hate you Draco Malfoy," I whisper again, trying to convince myself.

You know that saying? There's a fine line between love and hate.

For the longest time, I'd been on the right side, hating every part of your existence. You were right all along; I had every reason to loathe you. I _have_ every reason to loathe you.

And damn it! The headache isn't helping my stomach in the least.

Leaning against the wall, and sinking to the floor, I let myself cry for the first time since Sirius had died.

What happens to Harry Potter now?

* * *

><p><strong><em>Draco Malfoy:<em>**

"Draco, it's time," the voice hissed.

I immediately know the owner of the voice, but refuse to believe this to be anything but a nightmare. It couldn't be my time. It simply couldn't.

"Why did you decide to come now?" I answer the unasked question, feeling my confusion and fear mix in with my confidence. A Malfoy's confidence should never falter, even in the Dark Lord's presence.

"Now, how is that a way to greet your new master, Draco?" the voice hisses again.

The fear rises quickly in my chest and I suddenly wish for you to be here with me. My own personal light in this darkened dream.

"Look," I begin; repeating your name over and over in my head, hoping your courage will overcome my own insecurities. "Voldemort," I gulp back his name like cough syrup. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to be marked. I'm not my father."

"No, Draco. You're greater than he ever was. I've been watching you, studying your every move. And well, I decided to make you my main project."

"What are you saying?"

"I've noticed a change in the great Harry Potter. I've also noticed that you've decided to become fairly close with the boy who lived. Is that not true?"

I turn violently around in circles, trying to see him, but nothing can be seen.

"What does he have to do with me being marked? This is between you and I. Leave Harry out of this."

I know that my words are strangled and scared. But, I'm not you, so please cut me a break. He still scares me.

A harsh chuckle echoes throughout the room and I can feel it vibrate through to my toes.

"He has everything to do with whatever I do. He is me, Draco. At least part of him is. But, that pure heart that is all his own is beginning to shift. He is beginning to feel again. I can't have that you see. I can't have the Boy Wonder whole. I can't beat him otherwise."

Considering his words, I understand why I am a part of this. I've never been daft. I understand more than I should. But, this is impossible; you can't begin to feel because of me. That's absurd!

"You're confused? Well, let me explain the thoughts of young Harry. He is drawn to you, Draco.

You're holding him in one piece. He was near breaking until recently. He was almost completely void of love before you decided to confess your retched little secret."

"What would you have me do? I can't change how I feel about him in the least, and I've tried! Anything to make his life easier. He doesn't deserve any of this."

"And you do?" he whispers almost dangerously. "Do you deserve to have this much pain? Do you?"

_Well… no, but…_

"Exactly, Draco. You don't."

_Did he just read…_

"Yes, I read your thoughts. It's incredible what you learn to do over the years. But, moving along, do you deserve this? The correct answer is no, and let me tell you something Draco."

_Yes?_

"I can give you anything you desire. I can give you everything you've ever wanted."

_No, you can't._

"How dare you challenge me! Potter isn't what you want. Potter was never what you wanted. You want power. Potter has it. As long as he is alive, he's in control of what you want."

I breathe deeply, collecting myself, trying to hide my thoughts…

"You can't hide from me, boy. And if you won't destroy him… well I'll have no choice but to step in on my own. And I'll tell you something else; I won't be nearly as poetic."

Clenching my teeth, I hiss, "Why can't you leave him be?"

"I can't rule with him in play. Power, my friend, power isn't shared by everyone, only owned by the best, the strongest. Harry Potter isn't fit for that position!"

"And where do I come into your twisted little plot? Answer that? What good would it be for you to have me on your side?"

"You can break him," he answers simply.

I don't understand…

"There is much between Harry and yourself that you have in common, Draco.

"For one, he has no family left. Second, he's running from himself, what he is, what he will inevitably be. And third… well, I suppose you'll find this most alarming. He shares the same love that you've put forth to him."

"You aren't serious," I murmur.

"Oh I am anything but joking. But, now I suppose that it is your turn to decide if you really love him." He laughs sadistically and the same current of fear fumbles up my spine.

"What are you saying?"

Do you love him enough to let him go? Do you love him enough to break him gently? If you aren't strong enough, Draco, I will gladly break him forever. I will without doubt end him slowly and painfully.

This time, the voice is in my head and my entire body burns from the newly found head voice.

"What do you want me to do?" I concede, looking at my feet cowardly. I'm so sorry…

"That's my boy. And it's simple really… I'll even help you along. When you meet Harry today, I will show you everything that you need to do."

I nod and feel the strange pain in my arm yet again. I understand that I've been marked now, and I can't go back.

Life never seemed fair to begin with.

"Oh Gods," I mumble to myself, lying where I had fallen this morning outside of the Great Hall.

_Now, Draco, why don't we stand up?_

"You're in my head?"

_Yes, it's easier this way._

Without my body forcing me to, I stand and begin to walk towards an unknown destination.

_Do you see where Weasely and Granger are running from, towards us? We're going that way. Harry will be leaving any minute to find you_.

True to his word, a confused you stumbles out of an unnamed room. You look unbearably perplexed as you fall right into me and I haven't the smallest idea as to what I'll do.

_Right on schedule, now follow my lead_.

As if I had a choice…

"Draco!" you almost shout, a smile playing on your perfect face.

"_What do you want, Potter?"_ I feel my body hiss. This isn't my voice speaking through. _"And if you wouldn't mind watching your step."_

"Draco, are you all right? How's your arm? Where did you go? What happened?" You seem thrown off by my hostility, but you're genuinely worried about me. I can feel my chest constricting.

You reach for me slowly, to examine my arm. And as much as I know that I want your willing touch, I flinch away. I know what lies beneath the robes now.

"_Get your filthy hands off of me! And my current state is of none of your concern."_

Please Harry, forgive me after this…

"I-I thought that we were-."

"_We were what, Potter? Friends? Was that what you were going to say? The precious Boy-Who-Lived wants to befriend the Prince of Slytherin."_ My body convulses in a chuckle at the words that I have no control over.

"Because we are," You almost growl, taking hold of my wrist quickly and bringing us only inches from the other. You aren't letting me get away, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to close the distance and hold you. You could save me… but it's my turn to save you.

"_Do you know who I am, Potter? Do you?"_ he whispers. _"Didn't you once tell me that we were born to hate each other? How could you ever believe my lies after all I've done to you?"_

No…

"What the hell are you saying, Malfoy?" You ask, relinquishing my hold.

"_Do I need to spell it out for you, Harry? I've been playing you this entire time. And you believed every word. I didn't think that it would be so easy for you to trust me."_

"You sick little prick!" You scream before punching me hard in the face. I stumble backwards and watch as your eyes change from that tranquil green to a blazing emerald. You're beautiful when you're angry. "You slimy little git of a pig! How does this get you off, Malfoy? I actually was beginning to see you. I even had the absurd thought that I may have-."

You may have what? Harry! What might you have thought?

"_Harry Potter, are you about to spill your heart out to me? Are you?"_ I can feel the heat of my blood trickle down my chin.

You punch the wall in your frustration and I can feel Voldemort smile inside of me.

"No! I wasn't about to pour my heart out to a filthy offspring of some Dead Death Eater!"

I rise to my feet and feel the piercing glare of your anger stab through my breaking heart.

"_That's what I wanted to hear Potter. Go ahead, tell me how you feel. I'm all ears."_

"I _hate_you, Draco."

_Good work, son_, Voldemort comments before he leaves my body. I flex my hands to make certain that they are my own again.

Your face is nothing but pure spite and loathing. But, I deserve it. I never deserved to have you as anything but an enemy.

"How it should be, Potter," I finish, turning around to force my own exit. I can't stay here.

Feeling that I've walked a safe distance from you, I find a darkened window and slump inside of it. For a brief moment, I think of jumping from it, but I'm not that weak.

What have I done?

My hands find their way to my face as my body begins to tremble.

I love you…

So, I let you go. I loved you enough to kill you myself.

Oh God, that sounds ridiculous! But, he would have destroyed you! He would have done terrible unthinkable things to you if I hadn't gone along with his plan.

The suicide was beginning to look tempting again.

But, I realize something. I realize that I'm already dead. That was the last I had. I only had enough life left to let you go. I only had enough spirit left to remove you from my life.

Does it have to hurt this much?

"I'm so sorry, Harry…" I mumble into my hands. "I'm so sorry that this had to happen."

I stand up from my position and begin summoning things to throw at the wall nearest me.

"I didn't want you to fall in love with me Harry! I specifically told myself that that was a useless cause! I'm not good for you and I'm not good enough for you! How could you do that? How could you let yourself love me?" I scream, and throw things with a force I hadn't known myself capable of.

"I hate you for this! I truly do! You bloody Gryffindor! Always thinking with your heart!"

I accidentally hold a glass too hard in my hand and it shatters, slicing my ring finger slightly.

"Damn it!" I yelp, watching the blood drip to the floor. "See what you did to me? You see that, Boy Wonder? Do you!"

The room becomes silent around me.

"I did that to you?"

"How long have you been there, Potter?" I say as icily as I can, which isn't hard considering my current state.

"Long enough to know that you're a complete liar."

I can feel you approaching me but I refuse to meet your gaze. He'll kill you if I can keep you whole.

"Of course I am, Potter. When have you ever seen me otherwise? Why don't you scurry off to your little mudblood friend and weasel? Let them take care of you for a change."

"No," you protest. "You're lying now."

I face you, to disagree, thrown off by how close you are and stumble back about an inch before you catch my arm and steady me.

My legs feel like jelly, but I continue to stare you down, refusing to let you lose. You will never lose to him.

"What makes you say that, Scarhead?" I almost stutter.

"Because," you say boldly, taking a step forward and holding my chin in place so that I can't see anything but you.

I close my eyes, silently begging for you to let me go. I'm not strong enough to do it on my own.

But, before you can hear me, I feel your nose brush softly against mine, warning me a fraction of a second before your lips make their first contact.

And I'm lost in the short feeling.

For the briefest moment, you've taken everything I am. Every fear every memory every dream every nightmare and pushed it aside to only leave you in their place.

For the briefest moment, the flutter in my stomach makes its way to my heart, finally regaining its pulse.

For the briefest moment, you've unfrozen me, and I'm alive again.

But, the moment ends, and you lean your head against mine, breathing as carefully as I am.

"Because you love me, Draco."

Your hand finds mine as you maintain the close proximity.

How did I ever think that I was strong enough to save you? How do you save the savior?

My eyes still haven't opened. You entwine our fingers and bring them up to my face to stroke my cheek lightly. The tenderness is unnerving and I shiver uncontrollably.

"And, I think that after everything… I think that I love you too."

My eyes snap open immediately and I pull myself away from you, cringing at the words.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"Harry, you can't- I mean, it isn't right for you to- You shouldn't-," I ramble, finding no precise words.

"Why? Draco, you've never been merely my enemy. There's been so much that I've never been able to tell you because I hadn't known it myself. You've always been impossible because I never understood you. It took me until now to understand how truly thin the line had been between us, and I understand it now. I finally know."

I know exactly what you mean. I know the exact feeling that you feel because my own heart is elating at every word you're uttering.

This time, I find the courage to step to you, to take your face in my hands and keep us centimeters apart while I decipher myself.

Your breathing had become shaky and I know that my own can't be any steadier. But, I lean forward, and instead of kissing you like you'd done to me, I reach up a bit and touch my lips to your forehead.

You sigh, and place your own hands over mine on your cheeks.

"Harry, I-."

_Draco… tsk tsk my boy. Looks like it's my turn._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Harry Potter:<strong>_

What happens when everything you've never wanted ends up being exactly what you needed? When that feeling that you were so afraid of having finally boils over the edge and you're left with nothing but the absolute truth so you feel… right?

Is that a good thing? It's never really happened to me before.

It's never been easy for me to actually accept the things I love. It's hard to admit how much you care for something when you know that that's their death sentence.

I think you're different though…

I think that you can be stronger than I am. I think you can survive my curse. And to be honest… you may be able to save me as well.

My head rests comfortably against yours while it spins with possibilities and newfound discoveries.

How long have I felt like this and only ignored the sensation? How long have you felt so helpless against something you thought you had no chance in and survived?

Again, this why I see so much potential in you. You've struggled though death and heartache and terror and lived…

My stomach knots when I realized that you may be living for me and I instantly feel guilty to have that power over you.

Your hands are still pressed to my cheeks when I place my own over top. I can't control the smile that spreads across my lips revealing one of the cheesiest grins I can remember having in a long time.

"Harry, I-," you begin before coming to an abrupt halt and tense silence.

Pulling away only to see your body shaking almost violently, I feel my own body freeze.

"Draco, what's wrong?" I ask, trying to hold you together myself. I find out nothing more before you pass out completely in my arms. "Draco!" I practically scream. "Draco, for God's sake, wake up!"

What do I do? What do I do?

For a savior I sure am doing absolutely nothing for someone in need.

I search through your robes to find something, anything that could possibly help you. I notice a small amount of heat coming from your arm and peal back the sleeve of your shirt to reveal a dark mark… _The_ dark mark, and I inch away almost immediately, backing away from you as far as I can before the wall makes contact with my back, most definitely leaving a bruise.

"You're marked…"

But he can't have you.

On that thought I force myself to my feet and pick up your new Death Eater form and begin to run. I only know of one person who can help me and I just ended our friendship a little under an hour or so.

But, she loves me… she'll help me.

I apparate us to the Gryffindor tower and begin screaming nonsense, hoping that Hermione will hear and not completely dismiss me.

"Hermione! Please help me! For the love of God help me!"

Before long, a small crowd of third and forth years makes their way to my obvious scene. Most of them look utterly confused at my actions bringing my arch nemesis to our home while he's unconscious. Some cheer as if I'd done this to him and brought back the prize of his defeat.

"Where is Hermione?" I ask to anyone listening.

A smaller girl steps from the crowd and waits for me to tell her to speak. She's obviously frightened to almost tears at her own confusion.

"She's locked herself in the bathroom Harry. A boy's been up there trying to get her out for almost an hour now."

I stand up and grip the girl's shoulders, smiling widely at her. "Thank you so much. Can you watch this boy for me? Please?"

She nods and smiles in return while I run up the stairs to the girl's bathroom. True to her word, a boy is standing outside of the room and pounding the door with his fist, screaming absolute nonsense at the girl inside.

"Hermione!" Ron calls, "He'll come around! He's had it rough this year! Give him some time to recover!"

"Ron, is she okay?"

"See Hermione? He's here now! Harry's here. Please Hermione, come out."

Silence follows before I hear the bathroom door unlock.

"Hermione," Ron whispers before collecting her in his arms. Her eyes never dart away from mine while he pets soothing circles into her back and I wait.

"Harry," her voice cracks. Her eyes are rimmed red from tears. From years of studying me, she knows right then and there that something is wrong. She breaks away from Ron and walks directly towards me and stops within an inch of my presence, looking up to study me yet again. "What's wrong? Who's hurt?"

I mentally kick myself for ever thinking that she never cared about me. Only someone who knows me could ever read me well enough to not only know that I'm worried but what I'm worried for.

"Draco. He's hurt, or hurting or dying. I don't know anything. He's been marked and I don't know Hermione, can you help me?"

She walks past me and takes the stairs two at a time, breaking though the crowd of obviously interested Gryffindors.

Looking at your marked arm, she doesn't flinch as I had. She simply turns her head to me and opens her mouth only to let nothing come out.

"Harry," she finally speaks, "he can't be unmarked… I don't know what I can do for him. He shouldn't be reacting this way though. The change is never this extreme. And it wasn't as if he was never going to become this. He was born to take his father's place Harry. He shouldn't be rejecting the change."

"Hermione, there's something else there. There has to be something I'm missing."

The wizards around us begin to grow restless and my head pounds from the noise level. Everything echoes and seems to increase in volume by the second.

"He's here."

"Who is Harry?" Hermione questions almost mechanically, still searching for answers that she thought she would never need to find.

"Voldemort. That has to be it. He's doing something to him. He has to be. That's the only thing that could explain anything."

"What would he want with Draco if he's already marked him? He wouldn't kill a follower."

"No, you're right. But, he'd try to kill me." She finally looks up from her work and her eyes light up at her understanding.

"Harry, you're not saying that Draco is- that you are… You both have…" She gulps and I nod back at her while her face flushes. "Well, Harry, the only thing I can think for you to do is to find him."

"Where am I supposed to do that? He isn't exactly the easiest thing to find. He's only found when he wants to be. What makes you think he'd just come out from wherever he is?"

"You're vulnerable. That's all the reason he needs."

I crawl over to where you lay and place a hand over your mark, hoping that whatever part of him that is still coursing though you can feel me here and find me. There's only one way to free you from all of this and that's to end him now, before he can hurt you anymore than he already has.

_Find me_, I chant over and over in my head. _Find me so we can finish this_.

Hopelessness takes over when I feel nothing in return. For God's sake! Answer me!

The pain in my head intensifies and I almost welcome the mind numbing discomfort.

"Hermione! Get everyone out of here, _now_."

Without a word, she complies and rounds up our audience and takes them up the stairs to their rooms.

Ron sits beside me and waits for me to tell him what to do. I can't focus on anything but the pain and scream for him to leave in my head.

As if knowing exactly what I meant to say, Ron shoved at my shoulder to get my attention. "I'm not going anywhere Harry."

Hermione finds her way back down the stairs and stands in awe as the room darkens into a completely different scene.

Mist begins to rise from the ground as the common room changes from its usual state to some kind of field and lake. The sky is dark despite the time and my skins crawls in anticipation as I see a dark figure approaching through the haze.

"Where are we?"

We're at the lake that you had taken me to. I'm too stunned to answer anyone but inhale a sharp breath as what I'm waiting for becomes clear.

He's here…

He looks at you first, bending carefully to your level and touching his fingertips to your head.

Your eyes blink open and you try helplessly to pick yourself up. I dare not move to help you just yet.

"Draco," he hisses. "You've just turned and have already failed me. What should I do with someone like you?"

He finally meets my glare and smiles. His face is undeniably terrifying. His voice is still made of nightmares and his eyes are piercing through mine. They're lifeless and menacing.

"What do you think, Harry?" he speaks in parseltongue. "What should I do with a traitor?"

The hand that's still touching you presses harder and I hear you yelp in pain. The sound alone makes me cringe and I focus harder on keeping myself calm. I can't let him beat me. Not if you're still in his hold.

"Let him go." I answer with a shrug. "This is my fight. Not his. You don't want him. You want me."

"Harry, don't."

"Listen to your mudblood friend Harry. She's right. You can't beat me. And I don't need to want Draco. He's already mine. He was born to be mine. And you, Harry Potter…"

Suddenly everything is still but him and I. The scene remains, but only we function.

I look around to see Hermione, her eyes filled with fear, her hand clutched between both of Ron's. Ron himself is determined looking, but terrified. My best friends are under the knife again because of me.

Simply because of my name, I'm again losing them to him. I'm losing you.

Anger takes the place of uncertainty in my stomach and I stand rigid and wait for his next move.

"You were meant to lose to me."

The wand that I've unconsciously wrapped my hand around falls to the floor while my mind conducts a plan.

"Drop your wand Tom. We'll finish this without weapons."

He smirks and throws his wand to the side. I know what he's capable of in his wandless magic. I only hope that it's less than what I have.

A flash of light hits me first and sends me flying towards the edge of the lake.

Reflexively, I send another blow back that forces him backwards, nearly paralyzing him in surprise.

"You know how to-."

"Surprise!" I shout, before casting what I think to be the last spell of the battle, the last charm that will end it all. But, before I can form the phrase, you're in his arms and blocking what I'd like to be my final attack.

"Drop him!" I command.

"You kill me, you kill him. Make your choice Harry."

"You let him go… You fix him and I don't kill you. You fix him and I let you live."

He considers this option and smiles impishly at me. "You would let everything you've worked for fall for him. The son of a Death Eater. The boy that's been trained specifically by one of my best to kill you. You would lose it all for someone that wants you dead."

"No," I whisper. "I would lose all of that for someone who loves me."

He chuckled darkly enough to make my insides flutter in fear, but I stand as tall and intimidating as I can. "You're a fool Harry. You'll never win."

"And you're alone… You'll never love."

He drops you to the ground and summons his wand. Muttering a few meaningless words, he removes whatever he's charmed you with and you stir as if just awakened by a dream.

"You'll lose Harry. In the end you'll lose…" He says before apparating away, leaving us where we've started.

We're back in the common room and Ron and Hermione make a move to us before you finally attempted to speak.

"You're hurt…" you observe, lifting your hand to my cheek where I had scraped near the lake. "You should have let him have me. You could have finished it."

"I would have lost you…"

It's only then that I notice the tears destroying my vision. Reality sinks in when I realize how much I've almost lost.

You laugh weakly and brush some of the dampened hair from my forehead. "That was stupid of you, Harry."

"Harry…" Hermione interrupts. "We should get him to the hospital wing."

"Right. Okay."

I don't bother to ask you if you can walk on your own. I pick you up and walk as swiftly as I can to Madame Pomfrey.

When we arrive, she is already in a tizzy with worry at both of our states.

"Oh my! Mister Potter what have you done?"

"Nothing ma'am. I'd rather not discuss what's happened just yet, but can you please just look after him?"

"And what about you? You look terrible Harry." She rushes to my side to check my wounds.

"I'll be fine, just look after him."

You're already asleep as I lay you on the nearest bed. I can actually say I understand what you went though having him alter you like that. I know how it feels to have him take total control.

I move the hair from your eyes to place my lips to your forehead. Your face is warm and your breathing is somewhat labored.

You're perfect.

Even in your completely exhausted state, you're a vision.

"I love you, Draco."

A few days had passed before you were allowed any visitors. Apparently you were ill from everything that had happened.

Ron, Hermione and I had patched things up and they seem to support you and I. For some reason Hermione always thought that it would work out this way. Well, not to this extent, but she expected irony.

Ron is disgusted. It isn't you… well, yes it's you. He'll come around. If he's my best friend, he'll accept you.

I practically barge into your room in the hospital wing to find you sitting up and fumbling around with something that looks to be some kind of remote.

I almost laugh at your struggle with muggle instruments.

"Draco, want some help?"

Your answering smile is dazzling and practically draws me from where I stand over to your bed side.

As soon as I sit you practically throw yourself only my lap and bury your head into my neck, completely forgetting what you were playing around with only moments ago.

"I though I'd dreamed it, Harry. I woke up and you weren't here. I thought I'd dreamed everything."

You're sobbing while I rock you back into now. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere too soon.

"I've got you," I coo, rubbing circles into your back, begging you to relax your hold.

"You saved me…" you mumble, still choking back sobs. You pull back enough for me to wipe your eyes of the unnecessary tears.

"Of course I did," I reply matter-of-factly, kissing away another stray tear that fell to your cheek. "He couldn't have you. "

"Harry, I'm still marked. I'm still technically his."

I shake my head in disagreement and pull your face to mine connecting our lips together, forcing as much love as humanly possible into this kiss.

Your hands find their way into my hair and I pull you as close to me as I can, trying without luck to make us into one person. You pull away for air and I still cling to you, turning my attention to your neck only to breathe in the scent that is uniquely you.

The moment isn't as sweet with danger still lurking, but it's enough for now.

"You're mine," I whisper into your throat before connecting with your glassy grey-blue eyes. "He can mark you in any way that he'd like but this," I remark before placing my hand over your heart, "This is mine. And this is all I want from you."

"He won't give up on you. He'll only keep trying."

I watch you stare at me in wonder. It's like you don't think that you're worth the trouble.

You're absolutely right. You're not worth the trouble.

You're worth more.

"I'll keep fighting."

This won't be easy. I'll love a Death Eater. You'll love your target. We'll never truly be at peace in our difference. But, we'll understand each other.

You kiss a trail starting from my scar to my nose and quickly place a chaste kiss to my awaiting lips.

"I love you Harry," you breathe against me. "But, this is never going to be some fairytale ending. We may not live happily ever after."

"No, probably not," I agree.

I won't need the castle and dwarves and slippers and magic mirrors to make this an ending worth having. As long as it ends with you, I think I can survive it. I was never born to live happily ever after. But, I can at least have the happy part. For now I can just be.

Love will never be easy. Nothing worth having ever comes easy.

I pull away to watch you watch me. I can tell that you're as scared as I am, but you're brave. You're brilliant. You're everything.

And I know then when you smile that genuine smile that I can see myself living to earn that things will get easier.

I lean in slightly to brush my lips over your forehead and close my eyes before leaning my head against yours.

"To happily never after, love."


End file.
